Left Turn
by hbcooper
Summary: In an AU, the psyche of Carol Danvers took control of Rogue's body in Genosha and never let go. Years later, a confused Rogue wakes up to a world that has continued on without her. Is there still a place for her with the X-Men? Romy.
1. Chapter 1

**Left Turn**

All characters owned by Marvel Comics

Author's notes: Been feeling a little nostalgic for the 90's lately (it was when I started reading the X-Men), especially with the lack of Romy in the comics, so I came up with this AU as a way to have them meet and get to know each other all over again. Be forewarned, there is a lot of fluffy angsty mush to follow, but I managed to keep it pretty PG-13 for once.

In this story, like the canon timeline, the psyche of Carol Danvers took control of Rogue's body during Rogue and Wolverine's rescue of Madelyne Pryor in Genosha (starting in Uncanny X-Men #236) Here, however, she never let go, burying Rogue so deeply in her mind no one could find her. After a serious injury later kills Carol's mind, Rogue wakes up confused and angry, having no idea how much time has transpired. I changed events, people, and places as I saw fit, and tried my best to figure out what would have happened to each of her teammates if Carol had been in the driver's seat instead of Rogue from Genosha forward.

The interludes included at the beginning of each chapter move backwards in time and tell Carol's story in reverse, and the chapters themselves move Rogue's story forward. A good knowledge of the X-Men issues from the Australia era through Fatal Attractions would be helpful, but hopefully not necessary. Romy, because I just can't help myself. As always, I write with minimal accents. I enjoyed writing it, hope you enjoy reading it!

* * *

" _I'd be within my rights. You stole me—powers, memories, personality—permanently from my rightful body, as much as murdered me! Why shouldn't I take control of yours?_

" _I didn't mean to! It was an accident! I only meant it to be temporary, like the others—but things got outta hand…you fought too hard!"_

" _I was fighting for my life. There's no other way, Rogue. You'll have to trust me." -Uncanny X-Men #236_

* * *

 **Interlude: Now You See Me**

 _Too late…_

 _Dr. Henry 'Hank' McCoy, the blue-furred Beast, kept a steady compression beat pounding onto the lifeless chest beneath him._

 _"We're losing her, Charles. If you're going to do anything, it's now or never…"_

 _"Understood." Charles Xavier concentrated and placed cool fingertips against smooth temples. 'Jean…are you…?'_

 _'I'm here, Charles, or thanks to Cerebro, I'm there, too.'_

 _Despite his situation, Charles Xavier spared a smile for his favorite student, comforted as always by her presence._ _'Together, then?' Their astral forms joined hands, combining the strength of their formidable telepathic powers, and plunged into the subconscious of their fallen teammate, sliding easily through fading, flickering resistance. Xavier turned a face clad in psychic armor towards the floating woman at his side. 'Jean, are you certain you are up to this? Logan is…'_

 _Jean simply nodded. 'I'm fine, Charles. And so is Logan. You needn't worry…he knows I'm always with him…'_

 _They moved silently through layer after layer of damaged subconscious, desperately searching for a trace, a glimmer of hope, for any sign their teammate could be saved. The mindscape of each individual was always unique, but most followed similar pathways and were organized closely enough that seasoned psychics such as Jean and Charles knew what to expect when they entered, much like a doctor opening up a heart patient, even if the details changed from face to face. In the dark and slowly failing fantasy landscape, Professor Charles Xavier found himself genuinely surprised when he felt the pull of something different, something unexpected. Fear, loss, anger, panic, despair, emotions hidden deep, kept locked away, seized hold of him with a cold grip that took away the breath of his exterior body. His astral form staggered to the ground with Jean right behind him._

 _'Charles!'_

 _He concentrated, his eyes vacant. 'Do you feel…?' The world shimmied and shuddered, beginning to crack and crumble around them. Psychic boulders crashed to the ground._

 _'Charles!' Jean looked around warily, tugging at his arm. 'She's flatlining! You know we can't stay here…'_

 _'Just a moment…' In his mind's eye, he found himself and Jean taken away, suddenly transported to the filtered grey of a cold and distant beach, his attention drawn to the steady pulse of…the ocean? No, it was more than that…the pulse of another…he reached out with his powers…_

 _'Charles!' Jean gripped his arm fiercely. 'We have to go! NOW!' She enveloped him with a fiery burst of telepathic energy and yanked them both from the dying mind, her paralyzed body slumping forward inside a machine in Westchester County, New York, Charles crashing against the metallic rails of a gurney inside the X-Men's aircraft streaking from the skies of Washington D.C._

 _Hank had ceased CPR and was attaching a respirator and monitors to the still body of the battered young woman, the white stripe of her hair tainted crimson. The beeps of the heart rate monitor were thready, but holding, her brainwaves registering a flat, level nothing._

 _"Henry?" Charles breathed, but Hank shook his head grimly and removed his glasses, wiping them on a random spot of white left visible on his blood spattered lab coat._

 _"Her body is alive. Logan's power is keeping her heart beating, same as its doing for him, but Carol has registered no brainwave activity since we retrieved them nearly an hour ago. Did you…?"_

 _'Charles…' Jean reached across the miles, her mind free of the crushing limitations of her broken body, and held a ghostly hand out to her teacher. 'What was that? What did you see?'_

 _A sudden blip on the brainwave monitor drew wide, disbelieving eyes, and they watched as a steady, tripping rhythm gained speed._

* * *

 **Chapter One**

I pulled open lead weight eyelids, the blurry world above a haze that merged into the gridded lines of speckled acoustic tiles above me. A numb, heavy pain outlined the boundaries of my body, my own breathing a wet, sucking hiss echoed by the rhythm of a respirator. Turning my head was met with a scorching fire of raw nerves, and resistance in the form of an oxygen hose jammed into my nostrils. I hauled a heavy hand to rip it away, the action impaired by more tubes taped to my wrist. Clawing frantically, I removed them and the oxygen, turning my head to take in my surroundings. A hospital room, state of the art, every inch gleaming shiny white and spotless. An empty chair sat next to my bed, a folded magazine all that a possible visitor had left behind.

I tensed and tested arms and legs, fingers and toes, some worked better than others, but not without sending boiling nauseous waves crashing over me. I tried to think, to calm the great panicky gulping breaths making my heart jackhammer in my chest. Where was I? Oh, Jesus, Genosha. Logan and I had been fighting for our lives against the Magistrates before they got us down and got rid of our powers…then they had taken me to a cell, and those guards had gotten mighty fresh and threatened worse... Anxiety sizzled and burned through the agony. I had to get out of here. I listened, trying to steady my tripping breath. It felt like someone was standing on my chest. I was definitely alone, and there looked to be no guards in the hall. Had I been moved to a civilian hospital? Had the X-Men come to the rescue? The panic continued shivering through me, through the white hot pain that charred every square inch of me. I couldn't stay here, couldn't wait to see who held me, friend or foe…I had to get out…had to find the Wolverine…

I fumbled with the bed's railing, then shimmied with all my might to flop my legs uselessly over the side, the world spinning in front of my eyes. The edges of my vision turned into a shimmering swirl. Every breath burned a red hot coal into my lungs, but I forced my legs to the ground, one of them uncomfortably numb, gripping the sheets knuckle white. The impact strobed flashes of pain right through my pulsing eyeballs. I tried to get airborne, but was slammed by a thunderclap headache for my efforts, nearly blacking out. Well, fuck. Not being able to fly was gonna make my little bid for freedom a hell of a lot harder. I would never make it before someone found me, but I had to try. I steeled myself and tried for a Plan B, wrenching myself from the bed.

I had no memory of the injuries that now decorated my body. My chest and torso were bound, crisscrossed with skintight bandages. Attempting baby steps, I realized my right leg, the numb one, wasn't just asleep, it was seriously injured, gauze and tape spackling the length of it. Whatever had happened to me had left it useless dead weight that I had to drag as I zombie shuffled for the door. It slid open like Star Trek, the coast clear for the moment, so I shambled achingly slow down a maddeningly familiar hallway, gleaming metal floor to ceiling. I was lucky so far, nobody there, but that luck wouldn't hold. This was no ordinary hospital. Someone was keeping me captive, someone was going to find me. I couldn't let them get me again, I had to get out…My hands barely kept me upright against the slippery walls, each step lurching, pawing frustration, pain and fear churning my guts. What if someone found me? What would they do to me? What had they done to me? Fresh memories of unwanted, rude hands in inappropriate places flashed into my subconscious, but I shoved them down. Nothing serious had happened with those Genoshan bastards, just part of the job. _Let it go_ , I told myself. _Focus!_

At the end of the hall, barely fifty yards, an elevator, an escape. _Hurry, hurry!_ My thready heart, overtaxed from my exertions, skipped and fluttered in my aching chest, my breath corseted by the bindings. I couldn't catch a decent lungful... It might as well have been fifty miles away at the rate I was able to move. I had to get out of there, had to find the X-Men! What had happened to me? To them? To my clothes? I spared a wobbly glance at my legs, bare besides the bandages beneath a too short, too exposed hospital gown. I had thought anything would be better than that hideous bodysuit the Magistrates had shoved me into, but this was a bit ridiculous, and dangerous, too much skin, too many chances for an accident with my mutant powers. All it took was a touch for me to drain someone dry…I was out of breath, dizzier than the worst sickness and I stopped, resting my forehead against the cold metal lining the walls.

 _Move!_ A voice screamed from deep inside and I dug way down, made my way one halting step at a time, the useless limb a dragging anchor in shallow water. _Keep moving!_ I swallowed bile that burned my throat raw, my vision tunneling the hallway to a pinpoint. How badly had I been hurt? Supposed to be invulnerable, took a lot to damage me, but then again, supposed to be able to fly, too. I was in serious trouble.

I allowed myself a tiny victory when I clumsily slammed against the elevator's doors, managing to catch myself before I fell through them and into the thankfully empty car. Not alien, not foreign, the numbers and letters on the panel were the King's English, and they swam in front of me. I leaned my head against the panel and pushed the button for the ground floor, hugging myself to stop a slow slide to the bottom, praying nobody would come for me. Eyes closed, I willed my heart to keep beating, willed the air to rush in and out of my tender ribcage.

The doors slid open again, and I started in surprise at the softly lit room beyond, disbelieving my throbbing eyeballs and fuzzy brain as I staggered from the elevator. The dark luster of polished wood illuminated a hallway lined with antique furnishings, all of it vaguely familiar, like I had been here before, but it all smelled brand new, squeaky clean, like sawdust and new leather, like fresh paint and…cigarettes? I leaned heavily on a solid, high-backed chair and sniffed delicately at the air, straining my eyes while they adjusted to the dim light. Wherever I was, it was night outside, the stars twinkled in a large window at the end of the hallway. I wrinkled my nose in disgust at the intruder smell and hopped my working leg forward, dragging its worthless companion.

I hadn't shuffled more than two steps when a man rounded the corner, his lithe form filling my exit, trapping me between him and the elevator. He was tall, slim but muscular, built like a dancer with wide shoulders and a trim waist, dressed to kill in a tight grey t-shirt and tighter jeans. Thick, ropy muscles strained beneath the thin fabric. He had a worn leather trench coat slung over one arm, and his shoulder length brown hair was twisted into a tousled ponytail. He hadn't seen me yet. His eyes were closed, but a smile played at full lips in the middle of a private joke. Long fingers brought a burning cigarette to that smirk, inhaling deeply. Behind the smoke, his face was gorgeous enough to make my shaky heart catch in my chest, and I hastily grabbed for a side table, rattling the chain of a Tiffany lamp decorated with green glass dragonflies. His eyes snapped open and mine widened at the sight, red irises on a field of black that stared back at me in surprise for a split second before they shifted, burning instead with contempt and disgust. A guard? One of the group of mutants who had spirited us to Genosha?

He pulled the cigarette sharply from his mouth between his thumb and middle finger, and glared at me while the room spun before me. "Mansion ain't smoke-free yet, Danvers," he jeered, his voice smoky and honey rich with the sound of New Orleans, if my ears were right. Danvers? I didn't know this man, but his handsome face twisted in revulsion when he said Carol's last name. Carol Danvers, the superhero Ms. Marvel. In one of my brighter moves, I had ruined both of our lives by using my mutant power to absorb her, getting the sum total of her memories, personality, and abilities as permanent fixtures deep inside my head. Why the hell had he called me _he_ r name? He was young, though, my age, maybe a little older. How did he know Carol, and what had she done to piss him off? My arms started shaking and the sharp angles of the hallway pitched unevenly. I slumped further onto the table. The man frowned and stepped forward, finally taking a good look at me. "Wait," he said quietly, "when did you wake up? You ain't supposed to be…" My legs and arms gave out at the same time and I crashed helplessly to the floor in a heap. He rushed headfirst with strong arms, but I flailed wildly to keep him away, trying in vain to defend myself.

"Don't touch me!" I shrieked and curled my screaming body into a tight ball, protecting myself as much as him. My mutant powers were uncontrollable and triggered by skin to skin contact, and I was showing a whole lot of leg in that moment. He knelt right next to me, close enough for me to feel the terrific heat radiating from him, warmer than most, the bare, tanned skin of his arms inches from my pale, poison body. I couldn't stop the tremors that racked my frame, but I caught his eyes with mine and shook my head frantically. "My skin…" I choked out, pleading.

His eyes widened as he looked at me, the muscles of his jaw tensing. "All right, petite," he took a final drag off the cigarette and ground it out against the heel of his boot. Holding it in his hand, it glowed a flaring magenta before he tossed it lightly into the hall, where it exploded, making me jump, the small blast barely more than a firecracker. He turned back to me and offered his trench coat, draping it gallantly over my shoulders. I tried to stand, to scramble away from him, but he snorted and swept me easily into his arms. I wasn't strong enough to stop him. His biceps and chest were hard, rippling planes of muscle, his skin so warm I could feel it through the leather of his jacket wrapped around me. Gritting my teeth to keep from screaming at the pain, I leaned into him, mindful of my exposed face and hands.

"What say we get you back to bed, eh?" He carried me effortlessly to the elevator, the doors sliding shut behind us. I closed my eyes to hide the burning tears that threatened to slide down my cheeks. I had failed. Whoever held me, I was at their mercy.

"Where…" I started, my voice thick and shaky, unable to catch a breath. "Where am I?"

He shifted me in his arms and breathed deep, his chest rumbling beneath me. "Westchester. Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters," he said softly, but I tried to push away from him, to get him to put me down.

"That's…not possible…" My bottom lip trembled and the lousy tears gathered at the corners of my eyes blurred my sight. Was this some stupid trick? Some super-powered time-warp? Was I so hurt I was hallucinating?

He gripped me tighter. "Why is that, cherie?" I was right, New Orleans. Cajun. I struggled the best I could against him, but everything hurt so much and my limbs were exhausted from my botched escape, rubbery and hopeless.

"School's closed, Professor Xavier long…gone." I twisted my head and glared at him through the blur of salt water. "We were…gone, too. Dead to the world."

His heart thrummed louder against me and his pupils dilated a split second before a casual, composed mask of easy charm slid back into place. "So I heard, but as you can see…" The elevator glided open and he carried me into the metal lined hallway. "School's back in session." He walked us back towards the hospital room, passing windows and doors I hadn't bothered looking into on my first pass, too worried about my malfunctioning legs and getting away than about taking a look at my surroundings, at my neighbors in the infirmary. Rookie mistake.

In the first room we passed, a pale blonde woman lay comatose, and her face I recognized as Emma Frost, The White Queen, one of the X-Men's old enemies, knocked inexplicably unconscious months ago. If this was Xavier's, what was she doin' here?

I gasped at the next room, covering my mouth with the sleeve of the borrowed trench coat. Logan, Wolverine, my longtime friend and teammate, was lying in the bed, his body a mummy's wrapping of bloodied bandages, tubes coming out every which way they could.

"Oh, my God," I sobbed despite myself, burying my head against the man's strong chest, his smell a heady mix of musk and smoke, his nearness causing my heart to pound again even if he were my enemy. I lifted my eyes. "How?" I managed as we reached the room I had awoken in. "His healin' factor…" My troubled eyes sought his wary ones again, my savior or my captor, I still couldn't tell which.

He laid me gingerly on the bed. "Its workin', cherie," he fluffed the pillows behind me. "Slow process, though, when you as hurt as he is…" he was going to say more, but the door slid open, two faces I recognized causing me to cry out in relief.

"I told you she was fine!" Bobby Drake, Iceman, founding member of the X-Men, ran an anxious hand through sandy-blonde hair. "Where were you? Out for a midnight stroll?"

Dr. Hank McCoy, the blue-furred Beast, fellow member of the original team, shoved Bobby out of his way. "It is hardly Carol's fault, Robert. You were supposed to be keeping vigil, not making popcorn." Bobby shrugged. Carol again. What the hell was goin' on here?

"She's been out for _days_. How was I supposed to know she'd come to before the Jiffy-Pop was done?" The man that had found me, my heart glad I could safely put him in the friend category, smiled easily at me, but stayed close to my bed, those ruby orbs of his shrewdly observing. Hank moved towards me, stethoscope in his big old paw. I cringed and burrowed into the rich leather jacket still wrapped around me.

"Better glove up, sugar," I said. Hank's eyes widened behind his round glasses and Bobby's jaw dropped open.

"What…what did you say?" Hank sputtered.

"Ya heard me, Hank McCoy." Talking was a little easier now that I wasn't trying to keep myself upright, but the pain was still excruciating. "Keep your hands to yourself! Last thing I need is to sprout blue fur and fangs…" The handsome stranger laughed out loud, a wonderful bark of a laugh.

"Holy shit!" Bobby whispered, and Hank snapped on the biggest pair of rubber gloves I'd ever seen.

"I need to check your vitals, and then I'll give you something more for the pain," he said evenly, gesturing to the trench coat. I shrugged out of it cautiously, my chivalrous rescuer helping me.

"Thanks for the loan…er?" I hadn't even gotten his name. He settled me back onto the pillows and Hank injected something warm and wonderful into my arm, the heat spreading and floating my mind into painless clouds.

The man shouldered into his jacket and smiled. "De name is Gambit," he said, his devil eyes twinkling mischievously.

I smiled lopsidedly back, the room blurring again. "I'm Rogue," I managed drowsily.

"Oh, my stars and garters," Beast mumbled. "Bobby…"

"I'll get the professor."

I sank away into a warm bath of darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

All characters owned by Marvel Comics

Author's notes: Thanks for the reviews everybody! Hopefully this all makes sense as the chapters and interludes go on. I'm kind of telling two stories at once, one going forward, one going in reverse, should be fun to see what everybody thinks as all is slowly revealed...Thanks again and enjoy!

* * *

 **Interlude: The Beginning of the End**

 _Ten days before…_

 _"At any rate, I thought your team deserved a heads up…" The impeccable blonde's voice was a pounding hammer through the eerie calm._

 _Looking up from the file folder, her companion sucked in a deep breath and stared with eyes of blue steel. She reached up to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind one ear, the pale lock joining a dramatic white stripe set against the auburn coloring the rest of her shoulder-blade length curls._ _"I appreciate this, Val," she replied grimly. "I know this couldn't have been easy." They stood together in the pre-dawn shadows of the Capitol Building, Washington D.C., alone on the steps, the vast majority of tourists having long since moved on to their hotels for the night, the early morning commuters still hours away._

 _Valerie Cooper, mutant liaison for the federal government, motioned her colleague down the stairs. "It won't be easy for any of us. Not anymore." Val's alligator skin heels snapped forcefully against the aging stones._

 _Her companion buried the folder beneath her brown leather bomber jacket, its shoulder emblazoned with a deep red X circled in the same color. "I suppose you're right," she countered, "but this…?"_

 _Val stopped abruptly and spun on her stiletto. "What else can we do? He's left us no choice, Carol."_

 _Major Carol Danvers pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger and drew another deep breath before she answered. "The Magneto Protocols were only ever meant as a last resort. Enacting them is only going to escalate an already hostile situation…"_

 _Val crossed her arms indignantly and bit back. "What does Xavier suggest we do? Our weapons have proven useless against him, and your team seems unwilling to do what is necessary to stop him. If what you all say is accurate, if that bastard's pulled a true messiah and risen from the dead…" Carol crossed her arms, mirroring Val's hostile stance. "Our hands are tied!"_

 _Carol raised her hands in exasperation. "They have to give us more time!"_

 _"I'm giving you as much as I can. The decision has been made, this was just a courtesy to you and your team. This time next week, stage one will be enacted. By the end of the month, Magneto won't be able to come anywhere near Earth's atmosphere." Carol dropped her arms in resignation as Val continued. "Let Xavier know that his inaction, his unwillingness to move, to go after that monster, has lead us all to this."_

 _"That's harsh, Val."_

 _"But true. You can't tell me it isn't, though, I suppose, if you step too far over Xavier's company line, he might demote you? How is your squad adjusting to their new leader?"_

 _Carol chewed the inside of her cheek to keep quiet the bitter comment that bubbled into her brain. "Are we done here?" she asked instead._

 _Val smiled a tight smile and laid a hand on Carol's shoulder. "You can always come home again, you know. Uncle Sam would be happy to welcome back one of his soldiers, Major, I noticed your commission is still active. As far as I'm concerned, you'll always have a place with X-Factor."_

 _Laughing a sharp crack of a laugh, Carol scowled at Val. "I sincerely doubt that," she said acidly. "Where is your team, anyway?"_

 _"Where's Alex, you mean?" Val smirked at the way Carol's already ivory face paled in the faint light. "Don't worry, the team is on a mission. As for Alex…" Carol's eyes narrowed and darted to Val's. "Your guess is as good as mine. Ask his brother, if you can find him…"_

 _Carol tried to stop herself from shaking and checked her watch. "Always a pleasure, Val, but Logan's waiting for me at our rendezvous point. Thanks again for keeping us in the loop." She turned and stepped down the next stair, needing to get away from her former boss before she punched the woman in the face._

 _"I'll be sure to give Alex your love, when my team takes him into custody that is..."_

 _Anger overrode Carol's better judgement. She turned back with a cocked fist and a mouth full of venom, but Val pulled a knife from the folds of her jacket and swiftly drove it into the middle of Carol's chest. Carol stared in frozen disbelief at the hilt of the knife protruding from her supposedly invulnerable skin. Val's eyes gleefully watched the hot liquid spurting from Carol's chest, the crimson streams pitter-pattering to gather on the stone steps at their feet._

 _"Why…?" Carol managed, watching, horrified as Val's waspish features melted and coalesced into a blue-skinned woman with vibrant red hair, this new face a familiar mix of rage and loathing._

 _The woman leaned forward and pushed the blade deeper. "You don't deserve this body," she hissed. "If she can't have it, neither will you…" The woman known as Mystique shoved harder, forcing Carol to her knees. "…I'll make sure of that!" She caressed Carol's cheek with a hand dripping red. "You have no idea how I wish I could stay for the end, Danvers, but…"_

 _A growl echoed from nowhere and everywhere all at once, the Wolverine flinging himself at Mystique claws first, his adamantium blades slicing through her abdomen. The two rolled down the rest of the steps in a tangle of kicks and fists. At the bottom, Logan straddled her and rammed his claws through her shoulder, furiously pinning her to the walkway._

 _"How could you do it?!" he snarled red hot into her smiling face. "Your own daughter!?" The smile disappeared and Mystique, faster than imaginable, drove her feet into his stomach and sent all three hundred and fifty pounds of him sprawling onto his back._

 _She stood over him, clutching her torso, her shape-shifting powers already knitting the massive wound back together. "That…thing…is not my daughter!" She pulled another weapon from the belt of her blood soaked costume and fired, sizzling a chunk of his jaw away, leaving the flesh ragged and scorched in its wake. "Still time to save her, old man." She gestured to the cavernous wound on his face, the meat already filling back in. "Isn't it what you do best?" He lunged for her, three razor sharp claws thunking easily into her chest, her wicked smile back in place. He wrenched his claws free, but before she fell, he saw Mystique's face shatter into a thousand shards of grief as she took one last look at the body she had left broken on the steps of the Capitol._

 _Logan abandoned Mystique's incapacitated form and raced for his teammate. Carol's lifeblood was a shimmering waterfall cascading down the staggered stones. "Jesus, Ace." He cradled the woman's body in his arms, detecting a low thudding heartbeat._

 _Her blue eyes fluttered open, and she pushed against his arms. "Logan…" she choked, and clawed wildly at the handle of the knife, trying desperately to pull it free._

 _Logan clutched her hands between his. "Hold on, Ace!" He looked around, scanning the area, still thankfully free of civilians, but his heart sank. Mystique's body no longer lay nearby, and a trail of blood snaked off into the darkness. "We'll pull it out, darlin', but you gotta absorb my healing factor when I do it."_

 _Her eyes widened and she fleetingly shoved balled up fists into his chest. "NO!" she put all the force she could muster into that one word, into that shove, but her super-strength had somehow failed her._

 _"Do it!" Logan gripped her painfully tight. "Use her power! Rogue wouldn't have wanted you to die like this!"_

 _Rogue. The name brought a look of desperate shame to Carol Danvers. "Logan, I…"_

 _He held his face against hers and heard the low whisper of her most disgraceful secret. Resigned, angry, he gripped the handle of the knife and started withdrawing. The suction brought a gush of fresh blood, of fresh guilt, before he pulled the dripping blade free and sent it skittering across the cement. He felt the pull of her powers, of Rogue's powers, gratefully surrendering himself to their flow. Before he lost it all, he heard scraping, dragging steps. The smell of Mystique's blood filled his nostrils before he heard the woman yank the pin of the grenade that landed near their legs and spun in circles. With his last thought, he covered Carol's body…Rogue's body…with his, the great searing fire of the explosion roaring over them all before everything faded to black ash._

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

The next time I opened my eyes, a face I never thought I'd see again sat by my bedside.

"Professor?" I said thickly, attempting to sit up, my hands tangled again in the tubes and cords of the respirator.

His smile was warm. "Hello, Rogue."

A thousand questions flared in my still groggy mind, threatening to burble all out at once. Where was I? Was I really at the school? How was that possible? When had he come back from space? Where were the rest of the X-Men? What had happened to Logan? To me? To Madelyne Pryor? And why the hell was everybody callin' me Carol Danvers? I still wasn't entirely sure that it wasn't all a dream or hallucination, seeing him there, whole and healthy, was too good to be true.

 _'Take a deep breath, Rogue, and we will tackle your queries one at a time, shall we?'_ His telepathic intrusion into my mind was as clear as a bell and I jumped, raising an aching eyebrow.

"Well, that's certainly a…surprise, sir." Thankfully, the painkillers Hank had pumped into me were still doing their job, though they were only keeping the worst of the agony at bay, I could feel it gnawing at the edges of my nerves when I tried to move too much or too fast. I wasn't indestructible, but damn near. What had happened to cause so much damage? But more to the point, at least for the moment, my powers had always made it notoriously difficult for most telepaths to communicate with. In all my years as his student, the psyche I had absorbed from Carol Danvers had significantly muffled any attempts my former teacher had ever made to read my mind, and he was the best, one of the most powerful telepaths ever born. Yet, I had just heard him with absolute clarity.

He nodded and spoke aloud. "The feeling is mutual, I assure you." He sat back and took a deep breath. "If you are feeling up to it, I suggest we start with your first question, shall we?"

I swallowed and took a painfully deep breath of my own. "That guy…" That cute guy, my mind reminded me, a blush flaring a furious pink on my cheeks when I remembered the Prof could apparently read my thoughts. "Um…his name was…Gambit? He said…he said I was at the school. How is that possible? You were…gone, in space…"

The professor clasped his hands in his lap and the expression on his face turned somber. "Rogue, what is the last thing that you remember before waking up in this room?"

I shivered beneath the bed's thin blanket. _Magistrates, fighting, adamantium claws sawing though steel doors, a blast of a mutant's powers leaving me without my own, hands groping, hurting, sneers, the promise of worse to come…_ I had to swallow the taste of vomit to answer him. "Genosha." That one word sent spiders crawling the length of me, but I wouldn't let those bastards get the better of me. If Logan and I were still there, still their prisoners, if they were the ones doing this, if this was all a hallucination or drug-induced trickery, they wouldn't see me cry. A flash of a dream surfaced, so dim I barely remembered…Carol reaching out to help in the depths of my mind, and me desperately clutching her hand. I had let her take control of my body. Everything after that was darkness.

The Professor's expression was puzzled. "Genosha?"

I nodded slowly. "Logan and I got captured lookin' for Maddie and that nurse, what's her name? Ransome? We materialized in the middle of this…citadel…a whole mess of troops breathin' down our necks…" I gritted my teeth and pushed myself into a sitting position, fresh pain a screaming hot fist in my chest, sucking urgently on the respirator.

"Rogue, you need to lie back down," The Professor touched my gown covered shoulder, his eyes a sea of concern, but I caught his with a fierce glare.

"What happened to us?"

He met my look with equal ferocity. "I will answer your questions, but I need you to understand the severity of the situation, to understand how gravely you are wounded. You must remain immobilized for the time being, or you risk injuring yourself further. Your trip to the upper levels of the mansion yesterday tore open large sections of stitches, possibly causing irreparable damage to a severely burned leg. You need to stay in this bed, voluntarily, until Henry deems you healed enough to leave the infirmary. I would rather not restrain you forcibly, but I will for your own safety."

I huffed out a shaky breath, too hurt and too tired to fight back. "What happened?" I asked again. "Tell it to me…straight, I can…handle the truth."

He sighed and rubbed a weary hand down his face. "The truth? You were impaled, through the chest, despite your invulnerability. The injury narrowly missed your heart, though it managed to puncture one of your lungs. Logan forced you to absorb his healing factor, or you would have died instantly, bled out on the spot." He looked at the wall. "Before you could be rescued, there was an explosion. You and Logan were caught in the blast."

I covered my mouth with a hand. "Oh my God…Logan…It's _my_ fault he's lyin' there?"

He shook his head. "It was his choice, child. He worked to save you. The best Henry can piece together is that the two of you were injured mid-transfer. You had not yet absorbed enough of Logan's power to completely heal yourself, but had taken enough to slow his body from repairing itself at its normal speed. Thankfully, enough of his healing factor was left for each of you to save you from the explosion, and the power kept you both alive until we could return you to the infirmary here at the mansion." I shut my eyes against the angry tears that burned them. My goddamned powers again, the only thing they did was hurt those around me. I wanted to curl into a ball and scream. "You are both alive, Rogue, you are both healing. I…we…merely need your cooperation if you are going to continue to recover." He stood tall and straightened my blanket. "Rest now. I will return, and we will continue down your list. I think you have enough to process for the moment. The main thing to know is you are safe and amongst friends. Amongst family."

Before I could protest, he adjusted the IV drip over my head and the darkness pulled me under again.


	3. Chapter 3

All characters owned by Marvel Comics

Author's notes: Bonus chapter this week, partly because y'all seem to be so excited about this story so far, but mainly because this is another Remy-free chapter and I feel guilty about that. It's one of those pesky informative and necessary chapters, though it may raise more questions than it answers...Happy reading!

* * *

 **Interlude: Hide 'N Seek**

 _Three weeks before…_

 _"What is that?" Carol bent down and stared at the small, neatly wrapped package perched on the corner of the antique wooden desk. The wrapping was made of rice paper, its surface decorated by immaculate rows of Japanese characters._

 _"I think, closure," Charles Xavier reached out and peeled away the paper, revealing two pearly cybernetic eyes nestled in the folds, their unseeing pupils the shade of freshly blooming lilacs. "But, at a high price." Carol gingerly lifted the gleaming implants to free the note beneath while Xavier continued. "It seems, Major, your findings were correct concerning the woman calling herself Revanche."_

 _Carol paused in her mental translation and lifted an eyebrow. "So, Betsy's mind was switched with that of the assassin Kwannon?"_

 _Charles nodded. "Yes. Matsu'o Tsurayaba sought to save his love from her broken body by making a deal with the devil. Revanche is gone, and I found these next to my bed when I awoke this morning."_

 _"Where would she go without her eyes?"_

 _"Hate to act like I don't give a rat's ass about the Bobbsey twins," Logan growled, "but we got bigger fish to fry."_

 _Wolverine blew a thick cloud of cigar smoke from his lungs and Carol swallowed a cough and the nasty comment she wanted to voice. Her burly friend wasn't going to be too happy with her when she announced her plans to make the school a smoke-free environment, but better to let him have his small victories for now. The Professor sank wearily into the chair behind his desk._

 _"There's no denyin' it any longer, Chuck." The Canadian's voice was a loud diesel engine growl, but Professor Charles Xavier just stared blankly out the window of his study overlooking the grounds of his estate._

 _"Charles," Carol implored, her plaintive tone causing the professor to turn towards them. "Logan's right. Between what we found in the Savage Land, and your encounter in Antarctica, we have to face the facts. As impossible as it may seem…"_

 _Finishing her sentence, Xavier nodded grimly. "Magneto has returned." The words hung heavy in the air with their unspoken implications. Magneto, Xavier's oldest friend and oldest foe, supposedly vaporized ash after a trip through Earth's upper atmosphere, had resurfaced with a new crew of fanatics at his beck and call._

 _"Much as I hate to admit it," Logan barked and caught Carol's eyes, "Summers was right."_

 _She knew he was talking about Scott, and that it had surely taken a large helping of humble pie for Logan to say those words out loud, but with a heavy heart she felt the absence of her Summers, and knew Alex had been just as right as his brother, about a great many things._

* * *

 **Chapter Three**

The pull of each bandage was a carrot peeler across wounded skin, and I shuddered violently, but managed to keep from crying out by digging my fingernails into the palms of my hands. Beast was one of the cuddliest doctors I had ever met, and changing the dressings on my patchwork of wounds was surely torture for his sweet disposition.

"These aren't healing as quickly as I had hoped, Rogue." He kept up a stream of detached, analytical chatter to distract me, and I tried to let myself float along with his rumbling voice's catalogue of my injuries. "Logan's purloined powers may have kept you alive in the hours subsequent to the attack, but it left your cells in the proverbial jam upon its exit from your system. You had healed at an accelerated rate, which then slammed to an immediate halt as you resumed your body's normal cellular repair rate. Reparations had begun to the burns of your lower extremities, which are now having to contend with a superfluity of scar tissue left behind by Logan's power. When he regains consciousness, absorbing more of his healing factor could theoretically set things right…"

I flinched away from his hands and felt a long tear of burned skin stick to the bandage. "I am not takin' more of his power…" I gasped. "This is my fault…"

Hank's broad shoulders slumped with an unspoken response. "Finished here," he said instead. "I need to examine your chest wound, please." Flipping over onto my back was an excruciating process that brought a border of black to my vision. Hank draped the bed's sheet strategically and inched my hospital gown up until it covered just enough for modesty. With the amount of breast I was showing, he was blushing beneath his blue fur, I was sure of it. "I am far less concerned with this laceration. Though indubitably more life-threatening, it is now nearly healed, perhaps more of a priority before Logan's power departed your body. I anticipate eliminating your stitches, and removing the respirator within a few days."

I closed my eyes against the strobing fluorescent lights. "Hallelujah."

"Your leg remains the primary concern. There is a continued risk of infection the longer the extensive burns and punctures from the shrapnel remain open wounds. I must caution you again from any unnecessary movements that would stress the newly forming epidermis."

Another lecture. I knew he cared, but I just wanted to find out what the hell had happened to us. My thoughts turned to Logan, lying immobilized in a nearby room. I held my breath until the tape of the bandage between my breasts gave way from my skin. Hank focused intently on the wound, his eyes never straying into other territory. "If you are reluctant to absorb more of Logan's healing factor, I may need to get creative with some of the med lab's toys derived from Shi'ar technology…"

"How is Logan today?" I tensed my abs as he dabbed around my stitches with antibiotic ointment.

"Improving steadily."

I had to stop myself from bolting upright in a hot rush of anger. "You call bein' unconscious improving?" I asked bitterly.

Hank raised his eyes over the round glasses that had slipped to the end of his furry nose. "I call having skin improving." My face fell and Hank grimaced. "I am sorry, I didn't mean to exacerbate your culpability. I just want you to understand the magnitude of his, and your, situation. When we found you both, you were barely alive."

"He covered my body with his, shielded me from the explosion?" Hank bowed his head and went back to the ointment. "Hank, please…"

He didn't look back up, but spoke softly. "We thought you were both dead. Logan was a charred, blackened mess of barbecued integument over bones, hardly discernable as a human being. He had taken the brunt of the blast. The explosion was caused by a dirty grenade, and an expensively dirty one at that, it was bursting with adamantium shavings that embedded themselves into the both of you. Logan's body absorbed the majority of the debris. His leg closest to the explosion had the flesh blown clean away, and unfortunately for your body, that exposed adamantium shin became red hot in the detonation and branded the surface of your leg. Carol hadn't taken all of his power thankfully, and his healing factor was effectively split between the two of you, keeping you both alive, but blunting his abilities' effectiveness. He is still working to regenerate flesh, tissue, and skin, all while forcing out the adamantium shrapnel, some nearly microscopic, lodged deep inside his organs. With you, I was able to use an electromagnet to remove the metal fragments, but his skeleton made that impossible. It is taking time for his system to excavate all of the particles, and the Professor has been keeping him unconscious to help control the agony caused by such mass-scale healing."

My own pain, becoming familiar like a worn pair of shoes, began to claw around the edges of my nerves. I wanted to ask him why he had called me Carol, but they had been teammates a long time ago, maybe even friends. I didn't want to put him on the spot, yet, so I took a different track. "Do the other X-Men know we're here?" I asked quietly, watching him tear medical tape from the roll.

"I beg your pardon?"

"The other X-Men. I assume you know by now that we didn't die in Dallas…"

He froze with tape dangling from his glove covered paw. "Dallas?"

"Yeah, we all survived. I know it wasn't the best idea to let everyone think we died, but we did it to protect y'all…did you contact Ororo, or Peter in Australia? Let them know we're okay? I'm sure they went to Genosha to rescue us…"

The door to my room slid open and a welcome, perky face entered. "Hank, when you're through, I could use some help changing Logan's sheets."

"Madelyne!" I was so happy to see Madelyne Pryor I nearly leapt from the bed to tackle her in a big bear hug. Logan and I had gone to her rescue in Genosha and I had been worried sick that we had failed miserably. Poor Madelyne was an unlucky civilian pilot who had married into the X-Men's brand of crazy. Her estranged husband was the team's original leader, Scott Summers, Cyclops, and she had been with us ever since their break up.

Her green eyes widened, and she took a hesitant step towards me, reaching up to tuck a spill of long, red hair behind her ear. The motion revealed a glittering set of cybernetic implants attached to each of her temples. Tiny metallic fingers spread out from the implants to her hairline, stopping just above her cheekbones, and pulses of light flashed along the surface.

She smiled, but the action didn't quite touch those emerald eyes. "Hello, Rogue. We haven't been introduced. I'm Jean Grey." She held out a dainty hand to my gloved one and I stared at her, my mouth hanging open like a hillbilly.

"Hi," I managed to croak. Jean Grey, one of the X-Men's founding members, had taken her own life way before my time on the team, after losing control of herself and her powers on a cosmic scale. This couldn't be. Was I hallucinating? Or was the Phoenix in her codename not just for show? A cold sweat slid over my body. "Pleased to meet you…" I mumbled. Holy cow. I had always heard Madelyne was a dead ringer for her…

Hank saved me. "I'm almost finished here, Jean. I'll be there momentarily."

Her smile brightened. "Thanks, Hank. Nice to meet you, Rogue." On her way out, I took a good look at the woman. Except for her haircut, she was Madelyne Pryor's identical twin. In addition to her metal headgear, her hips looked to have larger versions of the same implants, the tendrils of which trailed through her bodysuit and down her outer thighs. Her gait, not as smooth as normal, had a slight hitch to each step, and sent a strobing shimmer of lights up the length of her hardware.

Hank wrinkled his nose at me after she was gone. "Most assuredly _not_ Madelyne Pryor."

I groaned and smacked my own forehead. "Thanks for the warning. I thought Jean…died…?" I stared at him through the spread of my fingers.

"To quote the vernacular: she got better." He stood and tossed his gloves into a nearby garbage can. "So will you."

* * *

Hours later I was picking dejectedly at what a very mistaken Hank had called food when her voice snapped my attention.

"Would you mind a little company with your jello?"

I stopped poking the jiggly green cubes on my plate and looked up in surprise. My visitors had been far and few between since I had woken up, and none of them were who I had expected them to be, my own Australia teammates being conspicuously absent. The last person I had anticipated making a return trip was the ghost of Jean Grey, especially after I had made such an ass of myself earlier.

"No, I wouldn't mind at all." I smiled warmly, but my face twisted in confusion at the sight of her. She was wearing a long teal dress with a purple jacket over the top, but instead of stepping into my room, she rolled herself in, seated in a wheelchair that she parked right by the side of my bed. Her heavy metal accessories from earlier were nowhere to be seen.

"I think we maybe got off on the wrong foot earlier, Rogue."

I stared at her. I knew it was rude, but I couldn't stop myself. She hadn't looked injured when she had been in here before, no bandages or casts or braces. What was with the chair? And it was all well and good that Jean Grey was alive, but what the hell had happened to Madelyne Pryor? Logan and I had gone to that gal's rescue, but everybody was still avoiding my questions and it was getting mighty frustrating. Where was Madelyne, and where were the rest of the X-Men?

"It's okay, Rogue. I expect you're curious about the chair?"

Among other things, but I held up a hand. "You don't have to explain. It's none of my business." I was being rude to this woman again with my big mouth and stares. I would have kicked myself I could have moved my leg proper.

"No, I don't mind. Really. It's a pretty unusual situation, even for the X-Men." She sighed and launched into a story I could tell she had told a thousand times, had it rehearsed down to a detached emotional science. "There was an accident, a couple of years ago, that left me paralyzed from the waist down. I can't walk on my own, but, thankfully, I live in a mansion of miracles. What you saw earlier? Something the Professor and Hank came up with. It started life as Shi'ar technology, a modified exoskeleton fueled by my mutant powers. It carries messages from my brain to the corresponding nerves in my legs, and presto, I'm walking. The kicker is, when I'm wearing it, it uses all of my energy to run it. If I'm on my feet, I can't use my powers. I could just float around using my telekinesis, but the exoskeleton forces the muscles in my legs to work, keeps them from atrophying, but since it's a little too sci-fi for the general public, I usually only wear it around the mansion. When we go out, I'm in the chair."

I couldn't help myself from grimacing. "That's a hell of a trade-off, sugar."

She pulled herself out of a frown. "Let's try this again, shall we? I've always thought we X-Women should stick together." She sat us straighter in her chair and fluffed her mountain of red hair. "I'll go first." Her face switched from super serious to a smile that was just this side of crazy. I had to stifle a giggle behind my gloved hand. "Hi!" Her voice was syrup over honey mixed with molasses. "I'm Jean Grey! Telepath, telekinetic, paraplegic. You may know me as the only female student of Xavier's original class, or maybe you've heard of my turn as a star-devouring suicidal cosmic force?"

I laughed, hard, and it hurt my chest something fierce, but it felt good, too. I held out a hand to shake. There was hesitation in her eyes at the sight of my gloved hand, but she took it. "Hi, Jean. I'm Rogue. Burn victim, reformed evil mutant. I'm sure you've heard of the girl who can't be touched?" We giggled and joked like a couple of ten year olds at a slumber party, until dad had to come tell us to quiet down.

The Professor, clad in a very expensive suit, poked his head into my room. "Jean? The car is ready."

"We should probably go." She turned back to me. "Duty calls. Charles is letting me accompany him to the city. He's been invited to debate Senator Kelly on air for an episode of _Nightline_. It's all very exciting, the camera loves the Professor, you know." She winked conspiratorially. "I'll see if Hank can wheel a television down here before he heads to the city himself, so you can watch them in action." The Professor just shook his head, looking slightly embarrassed, and stepped in to push Jean's chair. "Rogue, this was nice. I'm glad we got a chance to talk."

I nodded. "Me, too." She was right. We X-Women needed to stick together, and it wasn't like any of my other friends had come to see me... 


	4. Chapter 4

All characters owned by Marvel Comics

Author's notes: Now, don't get too used to this, everybody. It'll be weekly updates going forward, but I was just anxious to get things moving in terms of the story, so you get an extra chapter.

As we do move forward (or backward with Carol's story) some of the interludes/chapters will stand in for specific canon comic issues. When that happens, I'll try to let you know in the notes exactly which issues so you could reference the original material if you wanted. (I haven't done that with the first few chapters just in case it was a little too spoiler-y)

This chapter should give you a better sense of 'when' for Rogue, if maybe not yet 'how'. Some of the questions that have popped up in the reviews are answered in upcoming chapters and interludes. Thanks for reading!

* * *

 **Interlude: Revanche is a Dish Best Served Cold**

 _One month before…_

 _Carol slammed the woman's body against the wall of the Danger Room hard enough to leave a dent behind her muscular form._

 _"You want to tell me what you're playing at here, lady, because if this is a joke..."_

 _The woman laughed a familiar laugh from beneath the heavy cloak obscuring her face. "No joke. No lies, Carol Danvers. For that, merely turn to the woman who has played you all false these many months." The armor clad figure pointed over Carol's shoulder to where Logan was helping a battered Psylocke to her feet._

 _"Do not listen to a word she says!" Psylocke struggled in vain to free herself from Logan's adamantium grip._

 _"Betsy." Carol's voice was a harsh warning, but she kept her attention focused in front of her. "That's a pretty hefty charge, chum. Got anything to back that up?"_

 _"I believe," the woman reached up and pulled back the cloak from her face. Their audience of collected X-Men gasped. "This should be more than sufficient to prove my sincerity."_

 _Carol swallowed. Beneath the cloak was the original face of Elisabeth Braddock, Caucasian as the day was long._

 _Logan growled and threw his own Elisabeth Braddock up against the wall, pinning her to the metal with two claws around her neck. "So, just who the heck are you, Betts?"_

 _"You know who I am! We have fought together, lived together!" Betsy, normally a force of nature, was on the verge of cracking. "I am who I say I am!"_

 _"That's kind of hard to believe right about now…"_

 _Logan's Betsy Braddock swatted away his hand in disgust and turned to her squad leader. "Carol, please, after everything we have been through, after everything I have done for you, have I ever given you reason not to trust me?"_

 _The woman still immobilized under her arm strained towards Carol in a whisper. "But then, Carol Danvers, trusting Elisabeth Braddock has always served you well, has it not?"_

* * *

 **Chapter Four**

"Dude, she's totally asleep…" the intruder voice hissed.

"Yeah, you're right. We'll come back…"

I opened one eye, scowling in the voices' general direction. "Bobby?" I opened the other to the grinning face of Bobby Drake, his arms laden with books and board games. A petite Asian gal, couldn't have been more than fourteen, stood behind him. Her pretty face was hidden behind enormous pink sunglasses, and her yellow jacket was bright enough to make my eyeballs twitch. She blew a gigantic bubble with a mouthful of gum that matched the hue of her shades, and leaned on the footboard of my bed.

"Hey, Rogue! You're awake!" I opened my mouth to ask what he was doin' in my room again, but thought better of it. Bobby had always been real nice to me, and I was relieved to have company besides Hank and the Professor. Jean had come just the once, but none of my other teammates, if they were even here, had been to see me, and Hank and the prof had been real tight lipped about why. Maybe Bobby would answer some more of my questions. The sweet boy dropped a checkerboard and an armful of novels at the end of the bed. The girl flipped her glasses on top of her head and started absently pawing through the stack. "How are you feeling?" he asked, flopping into the chair next to my bed, leaning back and lacing his fingers behind his head.

"Like I got hit by a Mack truck, sugar," I smiled and tried to sit up again, the Prof's words 'bout bein' careful ringing in my ears. "How's Logan?"

The girl's eyes shot up from a battered copy of _Jane Eyre_. "Wolvie'll be fine, no thanks to you." A trapdoor opened in the bottom of my stomach and I fell straight though.

"Jubilee!" Bobby sat bolt upright. "You're not helping!"

She chucked the book onto the bed, screwed up her face, and sighed. "Sorry," she mumbled. "It's not your fault. I know. You couldn't have stopped the big lug if you tried…" Her brown eyes caught mine, hoop earrings the diameter of a tennis ball dancing on the lobes, her name crawling up the middle of each. "Sorry to be such a Debbie-downer…"

Drake grinned sheepishly. "Would you believe we came to cheer you up?" I bit my lip to keep the laugh inside. Jubilee grinned, her tantrum forgotten for the moment, but I couldn't help but wonder how many of the mutants here felt just like she did.

"Cheer her up? With these?" she gestured to the books at my feet. "BO-RING!" She reached into an inner pocket of her loud jacket. "Here, I lifted this _Cosmo_ from Psylocke, the confessions are pretty funny…" Psylocke, Elizabeth Braddock, one of the teammates no one seemed to be willing to help me account for. Before I could even ask about Betsy, a loud crash and the anguished roar of a caged animal strangled the words in my throat. We all jumped a mile, and the young girl's eyes widened. "Wolvie!" She threw the twisted magazine at me and sprinted for the exit, Bobby hot on her heels.

"Dammit, Jubilee! Stop!" His body frosted over, the temp dropping ten degrees for every hurried step out my door. A crash rattled the walls of my room, and the Professor ran down the hallway, the Beast bouncing behind him. The snarls grew louder, the clatter of metal and broken glass echoing through the lower levels. I caught a glimpse of flowing red hair as Jean Grey floated after Beast and the Professor. Jean's face was painted with apprehension and anguish, but I wasn't worried, not now, not about Logan. I actually found the roar of the Wolverine to be more comforting than his silence. If he was growling, he was breathing, so much better than the wounded animal I had caught a glimpse of earlier. I wanted to get up, to go help, to go apologize to Logan, to do anything, but I knew the last thing anybody needed was me hurting myself again, I would just be in the way. I slumped backwards onto my pillow, dejected, irritated. Useless.

I reached for the magazine Jubilee had thrown at me and absently turned the pages. Too skinny models doin' their best to make your average woman feel bad about herself? Thanks a lot, gal, but I think I'd rather curl up with Mr. Rochester. Dropping the magazine onto my lap, I rode out a stab of pain that rippled from the wound in my chest. I took a slow, careful breath and stared ahead at the magazine's cover. The date under the masthead caught my eye as the pain subsided and I blinked, disbelieving what I saw.

"What the hell?" I scrubbed my hands into my eyes to focus, my world blurring and greying at the edges again. My mouth dry, swallowing rusty razor blades, I clutched the magazine with shaking hands. Couldn't be. The date, plain as day, was four years later than it should have been, four years later then last I remembered. My barely healed lung gasped for breath in panicked gulps, and I flipped the pages frantically. "No…no…" This was insane. It had to be a joke, right? But it wasn't. "NO!" Shaking, I flung the magazine away, my hands clawing at my hair. I dropped my chin against my chest, ignoring the wash of renewed agony that flowed over me, trying to wrap my brain around what it was I was considering. Four years. _Four years_? It couldn't be…The last thing I remembered was Genosha, and Carol taking control of my body…had she _never_ let go? Had I lost four years to that Yankee witch? How?! How had she kept my body…how had the X-Men let her do that?! Oh, Jesus H. Christ, how was this even possible? My mouth watered, stomach acid lurching into my throat, and I snapped up, scrambling for the side of the bed.

"Here!" Strong gloved hands thrust a stainless steel bedpan in front of me, and I wretched miserably, dry heaves racking my body with fresh waves of pain. One of the hands held the hair back from my face while the other rubbed soothing circles on my back, the arms covered beneath the thin fabric of a long-sleeved Henley. "S'okay, chere, you're okay…" That smooth voice again, but I hadn't even heard him come into my room.

I couldn't stop the tears that dribbled into the metal dish in my lap. "Go…'way," I whispered. Four years. It couldn't be. I wanted to shove him away, to run, but my body was too numb, too hurt to move. He took the tray from me instead. I felt him get up, and he rinsed the pan in the room's sink. The ruckus down the hall had subsided for the moment, bathing us in pin-drop quiet, and I heard the rustle of bandage wrappers when he sat back down.

"Merde…." he hissed, "Stay still, chere. You may have screwed up your stitches again. The Beast be preoccupied at the moment, but I can take a look…"

I froze and pulled away when careful hands reached for the ties at the neck of my gown. I glared at him through tears I was already sick of shedding. "Isn't my wound in the front?"

He shrugged, the concern on his face twisting to a devilish smirk, his fingers trailing lightly down my arm. "If you insist, cherie. I usually expect dinner first…"

I slapped his hands away. "Nice try you… _Swamp Rat_ ," I hissed through gritted teeth. If ever a nickname fit…just who the hell was this guy, anyway? "I eat alone most nights. Can't touch me, thanks to my powers, and most guys expect at least a goodnight kiss." Why was I even bothering to explain this to him?

He frowned. "What do you mean, your powers?"

I kept my jaw clenched, trying not to shake. "What, nobody told you about me? My powers, I steal people's minds and abilities, their souls, through skin to skin contact." His eyebrows shot up, and I was surprised he didn't jump away from me. "I can't control it, the slightest touch triggers the transfer. Makes for a lousy social life."

He raised a gloved hand towards my bare forearm. "But," he whispered, confused, "Danvers…" With white-knuckle fists, I rolled the magazine and smacked him in the chest, hard enough to illicit a flinched groan and a spicy rush of breath. "Ow." He grabbed the magazine and rubbed where I had struck him. "I meant no harm. Just hoping to keep your mind off your pain. I'd do anythin' to see that pretty smile again, cherie…" he was devastatingly adorable, but I was out of patience, so fuming my world was red.

"Did you know?" He raised a questioning eyebrow and I pointed angrily to the magazine cover's date. "Did. You. _Know_? Does everyone!?"

Understanding spread across his handsome face and he sighed. "Oui."

Fear, anger, panic, betrayal, all ripped through me hotter than July. I counted to ten before I opened my mouth, too afraid a scream would be the only response I could give. "Was anyone plannin' on tellin' me?" My voice quaked, body, too. Oh, God, it was _true_? They had all kept this from me, kept me locked away. How could they? I thought they were my friends, my family…

"Eventually." He reached out and took my trembling hand. I wanted to shriek at him, to wrench it loose, but the grip was strong and warm, oddly comforting.

Pinching the bridge of my nose with the thumb and forefinger of my other hand, I took a slow painful breath, allowing the puzzle pieces to fall into place in my mind. "That's why nobody's come to see me, why everyone's been so tight-lipped 'bout what happened…so I didn't find out?" I turned my eyes expectantly and he nodded.

"You had already seen me, Henri, and Bobby."

I bit my lip. "And I never met Jubilee or Jean before. Y'all were safe, wouldn't give up the big secret…" He leaned in closer, too close, setting off my alarm bells. "Don't touch…"

He placed a warm, solid hand on my cheek, safe behind the leather of his glove, but I still flinched. "It wasn't like that, cherie. The Professor, everyone, just wanted you strong enough…"

"What the hell's going on here?" Bobby, still in full Iceman mode, filled the doorway to my room.

Gambit squeezed my hand and released it, standing and stretching like a jungle cat. "I'll get the Professor for you, Rogue. Sounds like he put M'sieu Logan down again for a nap." Gambit shouldered his way past a glaring Bobby Drake, slowly thawing.

"That guy's a creep, Rogue. You should tell him to take a hike."

"How long were y'all gonna lie to me, Bobby?"

His sweet face melted into a puppy dog puddle. "It's not like that, Rogue…"

Anger overrode the cocktail of pain and numbness swirling across my skin, and I didn't even try to control the volume of my voice. "So how is it, exactly?! Four years, Bobby! She took four years from me!"

"And how many did you take from her?" A familiar voice, British, cut through the air, but the face twisted in revulsion in the doorway to my room was one I had never seen before, belonging to a muscular Japanese woman with deep purple hair.

"What the hell, Psylocke?" Bobby moved between me and the woman. Psylocke. The accent, the purple hair with eyes to match? It seemed impossible, but I knew I was staring at my teammate Elisabeth Braddock, once a demure, tea-sipping anglophile. Apparently, I wasn't the only one the last four years had screwed with.

 _'That is enough, Elisabeth.'_ Our teacher's telepathic mind touch was light on me and Bobby, but Psylocke winced. The Professor appeared in the hallway. "Leave us," he ordered, and Bobby smiled regretfully on his way out as the Professor sat next to me. "It appears, Rogue, that I owe you an apology…and an explanation."

I met his eyes with mine. "I'm listenin'." 


	5. Chapter 5

All characters owned by Marvel Comics

Author's notes: A lot of serious stuff in this chapter, but I couldn't help but give a nod to one of my favorite Romy 90's scenes to lighten the mood. Thanks for reading!

* * *

 **Interlude: A Body That Won't Quit, a Mouth That Won't Shut Up**

 _Two months before…_

 _Irritated, she got on her hands and knees and wiggled halfway under the War Room's computer console. She scowled and yanked the length of melted cable loose, inspecting its surroundings for any further corruption._

 _"Dieu!" The voice startled her and she jumped, banging her head on the underside. She backed out and glared at Gambit, the man dressed in ripped jeans and a t-shirt, leaning his wiry frame against the doorway, his eyes glinting mischievously. "Something I can help you with, cherie?"_

 _She stood and brushed off her knees, shoving the cable hard against his chest. "I wouldn't need any help if you had done your job. It was your turn to do maintenance on the satellite uplink. It crashed tonight, but you were too busy hustling up some floozy, or whatever it is you do, to be bothered!"_

 _Gambit eyed Carol coldly and tossed the cable onto the console. "Y'know, Danvers, that face you wear is the prettiest face I've ever seen, with a body to match. Then, you gotta go and open that mouth of yours…"_

 _Her expression was twisted revulsion. "Funny. I was thinking the same thing about you, thief."_

 _He looked her up and down. "I ain't the only one guilty of takin' what don't belong to me, Major."_

* * *

 **Chapter Five**

"So, yeah, we take turns cooking and cleaning, doing dishes, stuff like that, just like the old days…everybody does their own laundry. Or, in Warren's case, pays somebody to do their laundry..." Bobby rambled on pleasantly, his tone light and cheerful as he pushed my wheelchair through the gleaming halls of the mansion. The layout and interior decorating were close to the old school, but I had learned the original Xavier mansion had been leveled by some baddie with the least clever name I had heard yet, Mr. Sinister. They had rebuilt, with a few technical upgrades, a new year's model of the same car.

My little tour courtesy of Iceman was the first time I had been allowed for any length of time out of my room in the infirmary. I should have been celebrating. I was off the respirator, my leg was healed just enough for the governor's pardon, I had even ditched the dreaded hospital gown in favor of an Xavier's School t-shirt and a pair of drawstring scrub pants, but I was tired, distracted by everything the Professor had told me. I knew deep down it was only the tip of the iceberg. Four years had been a long time for everyone.

According to the Professor, my mind had turned tail and retreated to the lower depths of my subconscious that night in Genosha. The psyche I had absorbed all those years ago from Carol Danvers had taken over my body and never let go. She had been living a life that should have been mine the last few years, had taken my place. The details of that life were slowly revealing themselves, but not fast enough for me. I had been spending my free time reading mission files logged since the X-Men's days in Australia, a time that to me was just yesterday, in an attempt to catch up, but none of it made any damn sense.

The Professor, and Psylocke before him, were convinced that something traumatic must have happened to me in Genosha, and that this trauma had been painful enough to shut me down. It was _bullshit_. I wasn't an idiot, I remembered everything that had happened to me, up to and including when I had taken Carol's hand and lost control of my body, every scrap of detail. They were all viewing it through the prism of years gone by, but for me, barely a handful of weeks had passed since Logan and I had fought to free Madelyne. The looks on the faces of those bastards when they had touched me, though disturbing, hadn't been anything that I couldn't handle. Nothing had happened beyond second base if you wanted the honest to God truth of it. It had done nothing but make me angry, and I didn't run and hide from angry. Somethin' was real screwy here. How could they have just…lost me?

The team's telepaths, mainly Betsy, had dug into my mind, Carol's mind, over and over, searching for me, but always coming up empty, the Professor stating it was like I had been erased from existence, no trace. That all changed three weeks ago. Carol, in my body, had been stabbed and caught in an explosion with Logan. Despite his healing factor saving my body, she had died, her brain waves flatlining. The Professor had been unable to save her, but he had found me instead, buried in the back of my brain. Carol was gone, and it seemed her powers had gone with her. There had been no trace of them since I had come to. One more thing I could scarcely believe since waking up. Carol Danvers, or at least my version of her, was dead, out of my head, and her death had brought me back to life.

I would start therapy sessions with the Professor next week, hoping to get to the bottom of it all, as well as physical therapy sessions with Gambit to get me walking again. Golly gee, wouldn't that be fun? Bobby gave me an earful every time I mentioned the man's name, and I now knew Gambit was an incorrigible flirt, not that I hadn't guessed, thought himself a real ladies' man, a former thief who had befriended and followed Storm back to the X-Men. How he had managed to become the team's resident PT, however, was a story Bobby seemed unwilling to tell. The man probably just wanted an excuse to rub his hands all over everyone.

Bobby wheeled me into a huge room with a sea of leather sofas surrounding a television that took up half the wall. "The rec room's first come, first served. Most people have TVs in their rooms, but it'd be nice to catch up on movies on the big screen. I can let you know the good stuff to watch from the last few years, if you want to, we can watch together…"

My eyes drifted to a set of wood framed French doors leading to a patio, green grass sparkling beneath blue skies. I sighed. "Bobby?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we go outside, sugar? Please?"

He screwed up his face, a conflict playing out across his features. Decided, he backed us out the door. "Just don't tell Hank, okay? I didn't get permission."

The breeze on my skin, the warmth of the spring sun sent wonderful shivers running up my arms and legs as he pushed me along the cement path and away from the confines of the mansion, but I winced at the bright world and shielded my eyes with a gloved hand.

"Oh, crap," Bobby stopped and leaned over my shoulder, "I'm an idiot. Hang tight, I'll go grab you some shades." He jogged back on the path and I took a slow gaze around. The grounds looked about like I recollected, the scars left by Sinister's explosion were apparently just a landscaping memory.

The sound of loud laughter and the rubber bounce of a ball drew my attention, and I wheeled myself towards it. A new addition, a basketball court, hugged a back corner of the mansion. Baseball had always been the game in my day. Jubilee and Gambit were knee deep in a game of HORSE, and both were a couple of show-offs from the looks of it. Gambit covered his eyes and made a shot from the opposite end of the court.

"No fair!" Jubilee squealed, her tiny frame swimming in an oversized NBA jersey above bike shorts, pink shades firmly in place. "We said no powers!" She put angry hands on her hips, but Gambit soared over her head, shaking the backboard with a resounding slam dunk. He was shirtless and the shorts he wore left just a little bit to my very vivid imagination. His hair was pulled back into that ponytail again, a sweatband snaked through the longer pieces falling artfully into his face. He rebounded his own shot and spun the ball on the tip of his finger.

"Does it look like this ball be sportin' a charge, petite?"

"I'm not stupid!" She made a grab for the ball, but he effortlessly switched it to the other hand, not so much as a wobble to the spin. "Your powers make you mega agile! How can I tell if you're usin' them or not?"

I couldn't help myself, and called out to them. "Sounds like cheatin' to me, sugar!" The sweaty pair whipped their heads my way, their faces splittin' into twin grins.

"Whoa!" Jubilee pushed her sunglasses back like a headband. "Like, who let you out?"

Gambit palmed the basketball, and his grin became a sultry smirk. "Maybe she escaped again, petite." He sauntered my way, my greedy eyes following the sweat rambling down his carved chest and abs. The corded muscles glistened in the sunlight, catching a faint dusting of hair that trailed down his tanned skin to dip into the waistband of his shorts. He grinned again, catching me in the act, and my face burned. "See something you like, chere?"

I opened my mouth to cuss him out, prepared with my token explanation of the impossibility of my powers, but I caught sight of Jubilee over his shoulder, rolling her eyes, making gagging motions his direction. I laughed out loud, stifling the noise behind my hand at the wounded look on his face, but lost it completely when Jubilee joined me, despite the throbbing twinge the laughter caused in my chest. His scathing scowl whipped between us girls, and I clutched at my stomach to stop the wonderful ache.

"I'm sorry, Gambit, I didn't mean…" A roll of thunder ushered in a cool breeze, and I turned my head skyward. Ororo Munroe, Storm, one of many absent Australia-teammates, dropped lightly from the sky.

Beautiful, as composed as ever, she inclined a head topped with silver waist-length hair towards Gambit. "Remy, Jubilation, if you would excuse us, please, I would like a word with Rogue." Remy, huh? I wanted to say his name out loud, to roll it around on my tongue, but I bit my lip instead.

He tucked the basketball beneath a gracefully muscular arm and held out his other hand chest high. "Now, I known you since you was this tall, Stormy, and bad manners don't suit you. We're not the ones you should be askin', pup." His eyes moved from her to me, and the goddess Ororo looked slightly abashed.

I held up a hand. "It's fine, Gambit, really."

He bowed slightly. "As you wish." He grabbed a sputtering Jubilee by the arm and they headed towards the mansion, nearly colliding with Bobby on his way back out. The look on Bobby's face at the sight of me and Storm facing each other was equal parts relief, sadness, and curiosity, but he followed Gambit and Jubilee inside. Noticing my squinting eyes, Storm waved a drifting cloud to cover the bright sun, then pushed me further on the path, an awkward silence building with each turn of the wheels.

Ororo and I had never been friends in the gal-pal kind of way, but she had been the big sister I never had, my leader and my teammate, one of the first people to willingly let me absorb their mind and powers. It had hurt me more than I could say that she had been at the mansion since I had woken up and not come to see me, but I let her off the hook for the moment and broke the ice.

"Stormy?" I asked, teasing.

She sighed dramatically. "It is a ridiculous nickname. I have told him repeatedly not to call me that."

"He's your friend?" I could hear the smile in her voice when she answered.

"Yes. I could not get rid of him, it seems. He followed me to the X-Men from New Orleans."

"When were you in New Orleans? And what did he mean since you were 'dis high'?" I stuck my hand out and did my best Swamp Rat impersonation.

"It has been a few years now. It is rather a complicated story, beginning when the team was attacked in Australia by a villain named Nanny." She stopped my chair next to a bench beneath a large, shady oak tree.

"Nanny?" I asked incredulously. Maybe Mr. Sinister's name wasn't so bad…

"It gets much worse." She sat on the end of the bench closest to my chair. "I was captured by this Nanny and her assistant the Orphan Maker, the X-Men believing I had been killed in the process."

"Oh, my word…"

"Nanny then de-aged me, reducing me to the body and mind of an adolescent. She brought me to America where I eventually escaped. The only memories remaining were of my sordid childhood on the streets of Cairo, and I returned to a life of petty theft…"

"And met Gambit."

She nodded. "Precisely. All obviously, eventually, returned to normal." She reached for my gloved hand, and another growl of thunder echoed the surprising emotion on her face. "Rogue, I wanted to speak with you…"

I pulled my hand free, hurt in her blue eyes. "Really? Seemed more like ya were ignorin' me."

She swallowed. "I may have earned your hatred. I was the team's leader, your safety was my responsibility."

Fresh tears sprang to my eyes and I looked away, willing them dry. "What happened, Ororo?" I asked, my voice thick with phlegm. "How could you just let me go like that?"

The clouds gathered and the temperature dropped around us. She stood and hugged herself. "We did not… _I_ did not know what to do. We rescued you, and Logan, in Genosha, only, it was not you. The explanation from Carol of what had happened, that you had given up control, seemed preposterous to me, but Elisabeth concurred with her story. All she could tell us was that something terrible had happened to you, something you were unable to cope with, and that you had retreated to the lower depths of your subconscious, that you had ceded control of your body to her." She knelt in front of me, a rage shaking me so hard the wheelchair rattled. "I did not believe it, I _could_ not believe it. The Rogue I had known would not give up, she had been taught much better than that."

Nothing had happened! It was all a lie. Getting felt up by some Genoshan bully would never have made me commit what amounted to psychic suicide! I bit my lower lip to keep from shrieking it in her face when she kept talking. "But, what could I do? Elisabeth worked with Carol, searched for you in the depths of her mind. When she found no trace, she thought perhaps you would resurface after given sufficient time to heal. Then…I died." She pressed my trembling hands between hers again. "When I returned to myself, you have no idea how dismayed I was to find that you had not." I couldn't look at her. She was sayin' I had done this to myself. _How_ had I done this to myself? She continued, but I wanted her to shut up, I couldn't hear anymore of her sorry justifications. "By that time, Carol had fairly established herself with a life of her own. I found myself faced with a profound moral dilemma: which of you had more of a right to that life?"

I snatched my hands away and tried to back up my chair. "Moral dilemma?" I spat. "Was that all I was?"

"You took her mind and memories, Rogue. There were some on the team who saw it as justice for the crime you had committed…"

"Crime?! That's what this was?! Punishment for the renegade runaway, the murderer you never wanted on your team in the first place?!"

She slammed my reversal by grabbing the handrails on the wheelchair, narrowly missing my wrists with her bare hands. "Do not place words in my mouth, child. I said there were some who felt that way, I did not say I was one of them." We stared each other down, neither blinking, but she didn't stop. "Once the X-Men rescued Professor Xavier from space, I had renewed hope for you, especially when the new teams formed at the mansion included his original students, I thought the combined powers of Charles Xavier and Jean Grey would find you, or at least be able to offer an explanation as to what had really occurred. Unfortunately, Jean's injuries took the lion's share of the Professor's attention. The task of working with Carol again fell to Elisabeth, a task, it would seem, which greatly exceeded her skill."

"Jean Grey." A faded photograph on the walls of the old mansion floated into my mind, my ears echoing a question I had once asked Nightcrawler, Kurt Wagner, another long lost teammate, about Madelyne Pryor and her resemblance to the supposedly fallen Jean Grey: _"Why are y'all so skittish when you say Scott's girlfriend looks just like her_?" Madelyne Pryor, a woman with the face of a ghost, the face of Jean Grey, a woman who had the power of a god but had taken her own life to protect those she loved from what she had become. I frowned at Ororo. "How is Jean not dead?"

"Resurrected. Another complicated story." Jean Grey was the first love of Scott Summers, the X-Man Cyclops. Scott Summers, who last I had known was still Madelyne Pryor's husband, though it seemed he had forgotten that, abandoned the poor gal. Maddie had lost her husband and her baby, and as lost souls tended to do, she had found a place with the X-Men.

"And Madelyne?" Ororo's face darkened with sadness, and I knew without her saying the words that Maddie was gone. "Another complication?" I asked bitterly. "Lot of that goin' around."

* * *

I left Ororo with her mouth hanging open and wheeled myself in through the kitchen in search of Bobby. I was greeted by the comfortingly familiar body of Peter Rasputin, Colossus, standing in front of the kitchen's island, his broad back turned to me. At the squeak of my wheels he turned his handsome face over one shoulder.

I smiled, suddenly shy. "Hiya, Pete." My anger melted at the sight of him. Peter was almost seven feet of rippling muscles, tall, dark and Russian in the very best sense, but the outer package had never matched the sweet, simple Siberian plow boy on the inside. It was hard not to have a crush on someone with the soul of an artist and the body of Arnold Schwarzenegger, but he had always been more like a brother to me.

He cautiously turned around the rest of the way, revealing, to my surprise, a small blonde girl of about seven years old, seated on a high stool at the island, chomping away on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

I waved at the little girl. "Hello there, sugar!" Her face split into a wide grin, a grin that sent goosebumps up my arms. I knew this girl, but it couldn't be…

Peter stepped towards me, his face an uncertain mix of guilt and reluctance. "Hello, Rogue. It is…good to see you, to see that you are well. I wanted to come and visit you as soon as you awoke, but the Professor said you were too hurt…"

"It's okay, Pete." It wasn't, but I didn't want him to beat himself up for following orders. I knew Petey Pureheart would have never gone against a word Professor Xavier had ever said. Loyal to the bone, that one.

The little girl behind him suddenly coughed a fit so hard she dropped her sandwich.

"Illyana!" He spun back to her and snatched her glass of milk away before she could spill it, and rubbed her back until she got herself under control. I nearly fell from my chair. Illyana?

"Piotr!" Her face was bright red, but she babbled away contentedly to him in Russian. I _had_ known her. Problem was, last time I had seen Colossus's little sister Illyana Rasputin, she had been a fifteen year old demon sorceress.

Jesus H. Christ. I thought I had _missed_ four years, not gone back in time… 


	6. Chapter 6

All characters owned by Marvel Comics

Author's notes: This short little interlude stands in for Excalibur #57, a goofy story that showcased the 90's X-Men visiting Excalibur and battling trolls who were looking for gold. Interesting for some very early Joe Mad art and the appearance of one of my favorite mutants from the old X-Factor days, Alchemy. Worth a look if only for a bit of nostalgia. I used it for the basis of this interlude because I wanted to show Kurt and Kitty's reactions to Carol, if only briefly.

Loving the reviews, good to see everybody is liking the story so far! This installment references scenes from Uncanny X-Men #182 & 236 if you need to do a little homework, otherwise we have a pretty heavy start to the chapter, but some silliness at the end. Enjoy!

* * *

 **Interlude: Bamf!**

 _Five months before…_

 _Charging from the shadows, Nightcrawler ran on all fours across the slippery cobblestones of the underground tunnels. "In order to see my teammates returned to their original state," he roared, "I would gladly battle one troll or one hundred!" He collided with a wall of muscle and fur, not of brick._

 _Eyes and two rows of sharpened teeth glinted in the dark. "Sorry to disappoint, no one here but us X-Men!"_

 _Nightcrawler stared in shock. "Beast?" Behind Henry McCoy, four more costumed mutants emerged from the darkened tunnel._

 _Wolverine struck a match against the stone wall and held it to his cigar. "Good to see you, Elf. The X-Men you haven't met are Gambit and Jubilee," he growled, but managed a smile for his old friend._

 _The young girl's trademark yellow jacket flashed from the light of the match. "Gambit's the ugly one!" she piped up._

 _"Jubilation, please." Carol did her best to keep a lid on her more excitable charges, but they were all so new to one another, all so used to working on their own. In terms of creating team unity, she had been less than successful._

 _Kurt Wagner's yellow eyes regarded Carol carefully. "Fraulein Danvers, I presume?" his usually cheerful German lilt had a wary edge to it._

 _Beast clapped a massive paw on Nightcrawler's shoulder. "Give Herr Wagner a moment to adjust to the unscheduled arrival of his former comrades."_

 _A squeal echoed off the walls, and they were joined by an unintelligible Shadowcat, Kitty Pryde, more than a little excited to see her ex-teammates. She launched herself into the arms of the Wolverine, who picked up the young woman he had known since she was just a girl and swung her around in a circle. When he released her, she stepped towards Carol with a broad smile that fell the longer she stared at the woman with the white stripe in her hair._

 _"You're still in control?" Kitty shook her head in disbelief and turned back to Logan. "I thought the Professor was working on that. What about Rogue? How long…"_

 _Carol's temper rose in her throat. "We don't have time for this," she said coldly. "A London based associate of the original X-Factor, a young mutant with alchemy powers, needs our help."_

 _Nightcrawler turned to Carol and bared his teeth, enhancing the demonic looks he was born with. "Your associate may be single handedly responsible for destroying my team!"_

 _Carol stepped back, surprised by the ferocity coming from the man her teammates had described as a gentle soul. "We should have alerted you sooner. I'm sorry."_

 _"Are you sorry, liebschen? If so, it is God who should hear your confession, not me…"_

* * *

 **Chapter Six**

"Was this the first time she had ever taken control?"

I paused and took a slow look around before I answered Xavier's question. Frozen before us were the black and white ghost images of heroes and villains, friends and foes, a mass of walking, talking psychic residue, scar-tissue that I had welcomed into my mind by absorbing each of theirs over the years. The unruly mob was crowding around another me, this ghost in living color, crouched on the ground before the image of a second bright figure, that of Carol Danvers clad in her Ms. Marvel costume. The tall blonde stood over the huddled me, her hand held out in supplication.

Xavier had used his powers to pull our astral forms into my memories. We had already walked through what had happened to Logan and me in Genosha, replaying uncomfortable and embarrassing images I hadn't wanted to be reminded of, but I was hanging in there so far. The Professor hadn't said it out loud or in my mind yet, but I got the feeling that he was starting to believe what I had said about those asshole guards and their rude hands. It was hard to hide anything from a telepath all up in your business. Had I freaked out? Damn right, who wouldn't have? I had thought they were going to kill me or worse, but there was no way I would have gone belly up after a couple too fresh dipshits had gotten handsy with me. Nobody but me was prepared yet to call Carol Danvers a liar, but the look on his face showed me Xavier was considering it. Now a determined Professor X, with my permission, was scouring my memories to find out how Carol's psyche had managed to stay top dog in my skull. The experience hadn't been a pleasant one for either of us.

I almost answered yes to his question, but my guts twisted as the cold chill of another memory spilled down my back. "No," I replied quietly and my teacher started in surprise.

"When?"

"Years ago…" The landscape around us shimmered and blurred with my change in thoughts, reforming into the cold grey shore of a windswept Atlantic beach. Another me, younger, stupider, her hair too short and her costume an ugly orange belted tunic, stumbled in the sand and held a pleading hand out to Michael Rossi, a man who had arguably been the love of the real Carol Danvers' life.

"Colonel Rossi?" Xavier knew the man as well. He opened his mouth to say more, but I knew what came next as the phantom memories played out a hurt deep in my soul.

"But Ah'm Carol," the me with the thicker accent begged pathetically. "In all the ways that count…" The slap that phantom Rossi delivered to her face still stung after all these years. Astral Xavier turned to me in astonishment, but I kept watching as Rossi walked away from the crumpled heap of a girl in the sand.

"This is what happened when you rescued him? This is what he refused to tell me?" The usually restrained Professor's voice was filled with a barely contained rage, but I couldn't face him, too embarrassed by what I had shown him in the depths of my mind today. Rogue's greatest hits were sure a painful, pitiful mess.

"Yeah," I said instead. "You sent me home to check on the kids after we landed in Japan. I was so tired after flying halfway 'round the world that when I heard Rossi on your emergency line, the Carol inside me took over. It was different than Genosha, though. There was no consistent borders between us, we melted together in a jumble, switching personalities with each sentence…"

Xavier touched my shoulder and I cringed, but managed to look at him. "You should have told me what happened between the two of you." His look was one of pity, but an anger flared behind those baby blues. "You were little more than a child at the time, and he..." The Professor stopped suddenly and looked at the beach around us in my mind. "I'm sorry, Rogue, forgive me for such an abrupt change of a very serious subject, but where are we?"

"Cape Cod. The Danvers family had a beach house here."

He frowned in confusion and turned in slow circles. "I know this place. How is it that I know this place?" he murmured. I shrugged. We were looking at the one and only time I had ever set foot on this beach. Xavier cleared his throat and stood in front of me. "I believe each of us could use a moment to collect our thoughts..."

In a wink I was opening my eyes to the rows of bookshelves lining the Professor's study. Xavier raised himself from the leather chair nearby and helped me sit upright on the matching sofa. "We will get to the bottom of this, Rogue."

I smiled weakly. Better late than never. "I know sir. I'm grateful for any help. This has been very…overwhelming."

"For all of us." He touched my shoulder and frowned. "Rogue, there are other issues that need our attention during these sessions. Before we move forward, there is something very pressing that we need to discuss. I have been reluctant to burden you during your convalescence, but I think that you are now strong enough to process it…" I swallowed hard and grabbed the edge of the leather couch cushion beneath me. "This may be very difficult for you to hear, but I feel you must know…Carol was able to control your mutant powers while she was the dominant psyche in your body." The good news of my life just kept coming, and a big ol' nauseated wave flopped over my stomach. "Take a deep breath, Rogue."

They still weren't being straight with me, were still trying to protect me. My powers, the worst damn thing that had ever happened to me, really were only my problem.

"She…" I had to swallow the stinging taste of bile. "She could _touch_ people?" In my body. Jesus H. Christ, what had she done to me? The Professor was using his mental powers to try to calm me and I was grateful he was stopping me from hurling all over his expensive wing-tips, but I was also angry enough I wanted to slap him and made sure he felt that coming from me, too.

"I am to blame for this, Rogue." I whipped blazing eyes at him, but he held a hand up to quiet me. "Do not misunderstand me, I did not help her to gain control of your abilities. From what I understand, she never experienced the lack of control that has plagued you when it comes to your powers. No, my guilt stems from my inability to locate your psyche within the depths of your mind. I allowed myself to remain preoccupied helping Jean recover from her injuries, and placed the search for your personality in the hands of others, in hands I wrongly assumed were skilled enough for the task. For that, I am deeply sorry. I know it cannot return the lost years to you, but I hope that you will let me help you now as we move forward." He placed a firm hand on my shoulder. "Please, Rogue. Allow me to remedy my mistake. Can we work together to find the solution?"

I wanted to scream at him, to ask where the hell he had been all these years when I had really needed him, but this man had always had my best interests at heart, even when my own mothers hadn't. People made mistakes, but were generally worthy of second chances. He had taught me that. "All right, sir. Together."

He smiled in relief. "That, I believe, is enough for today, for both of us. We will continue this discussion during our next session." Bringing over my wheelchair, he offered his shoulder to help me hop into the seat. "Are you hungry?" he asked as he backed the chair out through the study's heavy oak door. "I could take you to the kitchen…?"

My eyes searched for the grandfather clock that stood in the hall. "Actually, sir, Bobby was supposed to commandeer the big screen TV for movie night. You're welcome to join us."

Just then, Jubilee, her arms wrapped around a heaping bowl of popcorn as big as a beach ball, waddled through the kitchen's swinging doors and headed in the direction of the rec room. The Professor chuckled and pushed me towards the smell of melted butter. "I think I will pass for tonight. Perhaps next time."

"Rogue!" Bobby stood up from in front of the entertainment center and bounded our way. "You made it!" Bobby's enthusiasm was as viral as the plague and I felt myself smiling for real despite all that had happened during my first therapy session. "We've got some good stuff on deck for tonight!"

The Professor said his goodbyes and Jubilee grinned and waved from where she sat on the floor in front of the popcorn bowl on the coffee table. Another man, dark-skinned with a cascade of black, curly hair that brushed his shoulders and a goatee wrapping a very serious mouth, sat ramrod straight, his hulking form filing one of the room's leather sofas. A capital M was tattooed over one of his eyes and he regarded me suspiciously as Bobby helped get me settled in the loveseat directly across from the TV.

"Rogue, this is Bishop. The new kid. B, this is…"

The big man cut him off. "I am aware of her identity, Robert," his deep voice would have been pitch perfect for the voice over of the movie Jubilee had started playing.

Bobby shook his head and scooped me my own bowl of popcorn from the heap. "One thing to learn about Bishop," he whispered conspiratorially as he handed it to me, "the man knows how to party." Jubilee nearly choked on a handful of kernels.

We settled in to our movie marathon, me curled on the loveseat, Bobby sprawled on one couch, Bishop with a stick up his ass on the other, and Jubilee on the floor, my friends and teammates giving me the usual three feet of personal space, the invisible buffer zone created by my mutant powers. I could barely keep my mind on what Bobby had considered the best movies of the last few years. Carol had been able to control my powers. What did that mean? Had she nuzzled on this very sofa with some anonymous sweetie? Maybe even with Bobby? I shuddered. She had been able to control them, but what was wrong with me, what mental deficiency did I have, that I couldn't?

By the end of the third movie, darkness had fallen across the grounds, and with it came a quiet calm. I reached over, the motions sending ripples of pain up the length of my still healing leg, and wrangled the remote from the chest of a softly snoring Bobby. Jubilee had crawled from the floor to the opposite end of his couch and was also fast asleep, but a wide awake Bishop rose to his feet.

"I will return immediately following my security sweep of the mansion's grounds." He hesitated. "But, do not feel you must wait until I return to begin your next feature."

I started flipping channels. "I don't mind, sugar. I can wait for you, if you want. Take your time." I caught the faintest glimmer of a smile on his lips before he walked stiff as a board for the door. Maybe there was hope for him yet. On the third channel I struck gold. _Casablanca_ on Turner Classic Movies and it had just started. I nestled back against the warm leather and let myself get whisked away to another time and place.

Footsteps came to rest right behind me, but I didn't look up. "Back so soon, Bish?" I asked, my eyes on Rick. The body behind me leaned heavily on the back of the loveseat, their arm brushing my hair close enough to make me jump. I turned to face a beaming Gambit.

"You watching _Casablanca_?" his eyes sparkled in amusement, the light from the black and white screen making them dance. He smiled at me in lopsided confusion. "I thought Drake was takin' you on a pop culture tour of the last four years?"

I scowled and found the gloves I had removed to eat my popcorn and stuffed my slightly buttery hands into them. I hadn't seen Gambit since his shirtless turn on the basketball court had turned me into a tongue-tied school girl, and I still wasn't sure what to make of him or his attentions.

It was late for most normal people, well after midnight, but early for him. He had been out for a night on the town and was dressed in a snug button down and skinny slacks, his long hair brushed back from a face free of its usual stubble. It made him look younger, but still gorgeous, and I had to turn away to stop myself from staring.

"He did," I huffed. "I just like _Casablanca_ better."

A long leg swung over the back of the loveseat, narrowly missing my head. "Move over," he grunted.

My jaw dropped. "There's a whole empty couch over there, Swamp Rat!" I jabbed an angry finger at the sofa Bishop had vacated, but Gambit hauled his other leg over and wiggled his warm body between me and the arm of the loveseat.

"Hush, chere," he put a finger to his lips. "I can't hear Bogey." I was so flabbergasted I was practically sputtering. I tried to scoot away from him, but didn't get very far before my bum leg seized in pain and I winced. An arm snaked around my waist and pulled me close enough to him that my limb straightened out and the agony faded to a dull throb. "Better?" he murmured, his eyes still glued to the screen. "You like this movie, chere?"

"Yeah," I whispered. "It's my favorite." Love stories always kicked me in the teeth, but I tended to have a thing for the classics. Maybe there was just something about the clothes, the hair, or the general lack of graphic depictions of a sexual nature that drew me to them.

He inclined his head back to look at me. "Mine, too." He snuggled down into the leather of the loveseat, pulling me carefully against his side, and propped his feet up on the coffee table in front of us. His motions woke the sleeping Bobby Drake who blinked rapidly at us in the dim light.

"Home already, Cajun?" he mumbled, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Struck out tonight, huh?"

Gambit winked at me. "Guess my head just wasn't in the game, mon ami." 


	7. Chapter 7

All characters owned by Marvel Comics

Author's Notes: Not much action this chapter, but lots of information concerning what the other X-Men have been up to during our girl's missing years. (Here's your checklist Couplest!) Hopefully some of your questions are answered, though most of Rogue's aren't...and sorry, barely any Gambit. Despite that, thanks for the reviews!

* * *

 **Interlude: Charles in Charge**

 _Six months before…_

 _"You must have others better suited for this position," Carol leaned over the vast antique desk and raised an eyebrow at the man seated behind it. "Logan, or Betsy…Hank…"_

 _Professor Charles Xavier tented his fingers and brought them to his lips. "My request for your presence should tell you my opinion of those suggestions." His stern eyes bore through hers, making her retract her stance and stand back. "Logan has no interest in leading a team, Elisabeth's field experience is woefully lacking, and Henry wishes to distance himself from the field to concentrate on finding a cure for this mutate virus your former team brought word of that is ravaging the population of Genosha. What is it they're calling it?"_

 _Carol sat down in the stiff backed wooden chair with a huff. "The Legacy Virus."_

 _Xavier nodded grimly. "We need you, Major Danvers. I understand that this is not an ideal situation for you, and that it is not how you expected things to turn out, but you will always have a place with the X-Men."_

 _Carol grimaced and laughed wryly. "It's not like I have anywhere else to go, right?" Chagrined, she sighed. "It's good to see you on your feet, by the way. It takes more than one lousy bullet and a techno organic virus to slow you down, right?"_

 _Xavier scooted his chair back and stood. Coming around the desk, he placed a hand warmly on her shoulder. "Yes. The road to recovery has been a long one, but I feel stronger with every passing day. Come," he smiled. "Logan is certainly anxious to see you, as are the rest of the team…your team." He offered a hand courteously to help her rise. "They are currently running training exercises in the Danger Room. I think it would be an excellent opportunity for you to observe their talents and personalities, how they interact. They have been through a great deal as of late. I know there are a few you have worked with or at least met before, but there are sure to be some new faces."_

 _"Great idea." She gestured to her civilian garb. "Is there a place I can change first? If they're all in costume, I'd like to present myself in my working clothes."_

 _"Certainly. This way…" He led her to the hidden depths of the stately mansion, the lower levels a sharp technological contrast to the sprawling rural estate above ground. In a locker room, she quickly stripped off her turtleneck and slim khaki pants, replacing them with a uniform of a different kind. It maybe wasn't the trendiest, perhaps a little old fashioned- a black swimsuit style leotard with a high neck, the chest emblazoned with a yellow lightning bolt, matching opera length gloves and thigh high boots, a red sash that fanned out around her hips- but it was hers, sometimes the only thing that felt like her own. She gazed in the mirror at another woman's face, at auburn hair and a white stripe where it should have been blonde, and placed the black mask around eyes that had thankfully changed from their original green to her own blue._

 _"Ms. Marvel, or as close as she'll ever be, reporting for duty," she said to the mirror._

 _By the time she and Charles entered the glass and steel enclosed computer booth perched above the X-Men's state of the art training facility affectionately known as the Danger Room, the team was already knee-deep in holographically simulated Sentinels._

 _A beautiful woman with shoulder length red hair was seated at the room's controls, and turned to smile warmly at their entrance. "Welcome back to the X-Men, Major Danvers," the young woman teased, saluting, and turned her wheelchair to face Carol, a hand held out in greeting._

 _"Thanks, Jean, but we're way past formalities. You better call me Carol."_

 _Jean grinned and squeezed her hand before turning back to the elaborate controls. "Well, Carol, you're just in time. I was about to crank things up a notch for the Blue Team." She winked over her shoulder at Charles, queuing up the difficulty level of the current program and opening a communication channel to the room below._

 _"Cripes, Jeannie!" Carol heard Logan bellow through the speaker. "These kids are still warmin' up down her, darlin'…" Leaning over the panel and peering through the glass, Carol caught sight of her old friend's yellow costume amongst the smoking simulated rubble._

 _"Warm up? Some of us be hot all the time, mon ami." The accent was pure New Orleans and a young man in a brown trench coat moved with feline grace, flipping over Logan and unleashing a barrage of explosive magenta projectiles._

 _"Gambit?" Carol asked, and Charles nodded. "I'm surprised he stayed with you after the injuries Reaper inflicted on him. Have you figured out his angle yet? That guy's Thieves' Guild through and through, his FBI file is a foot thick, not to mention what Interpol has…between him and the walking light show, you guys have really lowered your standards…" she meant it as a joke, poking a little fun at Jubilation Lee, the young woman she had gotten to know when the girl had tagged along as Logan's latest sidekick, but Xavier stiffened._

 _"The X-Men have always been a place for second chances, Carol," he said, his tone clipped. "You of all people should know that. Besides…"_

 _Jean scowled at them over her shoulder. "Besides the fact we've been a little short-handed lately." She turned her chair again and shoved angrily from the room, Carol feeling her own foot firmly entrenched in her mouth._

* * *

 **Chapter Seven**

Four years had been a long time to everybody but me. To break up the pain and boredom between naps I had begun a search for answers, allowed by my ever watchful and fuzzy doctor to wheel myself daily to the team's War Room. I had been spending my spare time scouring the files for any and all information of my missing teammates, trying desperately to fill in the gaps of everything I had lost. A daunting task, made even more complicated by a troubling lack of direction. Each question I answered, each hole I filled, branched off in a thousand different confusing ways, creating a tangled spider web of unanswered problems that was givin' me a daily migraine. Where did I even begin?

"Jesus H. Christ…" I muttered to no one but the computer monitors, and leaned my elbows on the console's keyboard, my face in my hands. It was endless and endlessly confusing. Xavier and company had been as helpful as they could be, giving me a password and what I was discovering was limited access to mission reports and personal logs contained in their system, but I got a really bad feeling that they were only being so helpful, that they were still keeping things from me, but why? I understood that the Professor just couldn't let me freewheel my way through all of the files, but I could only get so far down the road of certain demands before the computer would throw a big old _No Security Clearance_ roadblock into my face. I was staring at one of those roadblocks right now and was ready to punch a fist straight through the monitor. Looking down at the notebook I had started filling, I put a fat question mark next to the name Alex Summers.

To make my task a little more manageable, I had made a list of my teammates and had started going down the line to try and figure out what had happened to each and every one of them. Everyone seemed to have had a pretty shitty few years without me, but the journey of some was more carefully documented than others. Half the Australia team, minus Ororo, Logan, Longshot, and me - Carol, I reminded myself, not me, just my body - had taken another trip through Roma's instant karma portal, the Siege Perilous, with varying degrees of disaster resulting. Ali, Peter, Betsy, and Alex had all lost their memories thanks to that portal, Betsy having lost her body as well, her mind switched with that of an Asian assassin named Kwannon, the new face that had glared at me and spit acid from the hallway. According to what I could tease from the files, Betsy's original body had recently resurfaced with the Asian assassin's mind in residence, and had made Betsy's life hell before disappearing again. Everybody else was scrambled and spread to the wind. Then there were the new X-teams: Excalibur, X-Factor, X-Force…

X-Force. Every attempt I had made to get more info on them had gotten a big old _No_ from Xavier's system. What I had soused out from talking to the few visitors I had gotten was that X-Force originally started as a bunch of kids, the former New Mutants, on their own, going through growing pains and abandonment issues thanks to our deaths in Dallas and the disappearance of the Professor. They had become outlaws, but everything had changed for them following a recent battle against several mutant terrorist organizations.

Jean Grey and Cyclops had been kidnapped, Professor Xavier had nearly been assassinated, and in the thick of it, this X-Force had been arrested by the federal government and imprisoned at the mansion. Before all had been said and done there had been a huge argument concerning the fate of the kids. A few veteran X-Men had become fed up with the Professor's approach, fed up with what they saw as the inadequacy of Xavier's dream, and had released X-Force and joined them, forming a group that felt they could accomplish more with the closed fist rather than the open hand. This squad's new agenda was to take the fight to the X-Men's enemies before they could come after us, and first and foremost on their hit list, the apparently resurrected Magneto.

This X-Force's membership included Sam Guthrie and Bobby DaCosta, both good boys when I had known them, Theresa O'Rourke, and some assorted delinquents with police records and unfamiliar names. The X-Men who had joined them in their crusade were the most surprising to me: Scott and Alex Summers. Xavier's golden boy Cyclops had broken with the dream and had been the instigator of the argument and jailbreak that had freed the outlaws. Scott Summers, rebel. Of all the things that I had learned since opening my eyes in that infirmary, this was one of the most unbelievable to me, until I had heard the full story behind Jean Grey's injuries.

Two years ago, a no longer reformed Magneto seeking revenge against Moira MacTaggert and Professor Xavier, had kidnapped the X-Men's Blue Team: Cyclops, Wolverine, Beast, Gambit, and Psylocke. Using mind control, the Master of Magnetism had sought to turn Xavier's own students against him. The Gold Team: Storm, Jean, Bobby, Colossus, and Archangel, with an assist from retired X-Man Banshee and the mutant inventor Forge, had gone to the rescue and had nearly lost everything. In the battle, a brainwashed Scott had used his optic blasts on the woman he loved, severing her spine in the process. Jean and the X-Men had survived, Magneto hadn't, or so they had thought for months and months.

Professor Xavier had thrown his resources and energy into helping Jean walk again, and she did with the aid of the Shi'ar exoskeleton fueled by her mutation, but at the cost of utilizing her powers. One or the other it seemed, the exoskeleton expended too much mental energy to sustain her gifts.

The guilt, the need for revenge, had driven Scott over the edge, and he had abandoned Jean and the dream just like he had once abandoned Madelyne. From what I knew of Scott, he would have blamed Xavier as much as he blamed himself for what had happened to Jean, as well as the man indirectly responsible for her paralysis, the villain Magneto. When rumors of the self-proclaimed mutant messiah's resurrection had surfaced, it had driven Scott to the brink.

I chewed on my pen cap. I could only assume Alex had gone with his brother out of some sort of familial obligation, but I couldn't get any confirmation on that. From what I had been allowed to see in the files, Alex Summers, the man called Havok, had resurfaced after the Siege Perilous in Genosha of all places, no memories, and had been brainwashed into becoming one of their magistrates. The Genoshans had gone after and kidnapped a whole slew of X-Men, X-Factor, and the New Mutants, and Alex had regained his memories in the ensuing battle, leveling the Magistrate's citadel himself. He remained to help with the initial efforts to rebuild the country he had helped tear down, and had stayed even longer after learning of the death of his ex-girlfriend Lorna Dane, Polaris, during a big battle on Muir Island, at the hands of Wolverine of all people. I felt a huge swell of pity for Alex, for Lorna. The two of them had just never been given a fair deal. Alex had stayed put in that wretched country until he had been recruited by Val Cooper as part of a new X-Factor team, working in partnership with the federal government. After that, I couldn't get any further, _No_ stamped all over the place. I left Alex's question mark for the moment, my thoughts turning to places I wasn't prepared to deal with.

I shook out my hair and pulled it back into a new ponytail, tucking the stray pieces behind my ears. In the hallway, the great big refrigerator named Bishop stopped outside the open door to the War Room. What I had learned of his story was just as messed up as the rest of ours, a time-displaced man from the future, a cop in another life, and he had become my constant, silent shadow whenever I was in this room. For my security or the team's, I couldn't tell which. From what I had seen of the man so far, he needed to loosen up.

"Bishop, honey," I called, "don't suppose you'd give me the secret password, would you?" He scowled and walked away, giving me a spectacular view of his curly mullet. Apparently the future believed in business in the front, party in the back.

The existence of a government sponsored X-Factor was a big problem, for my family in particular. My foster mothers, the reformed terrorists Mystique, Raven Darkholme, and Destiny, Irene Adler, had already secured similar jobs as part of a plea deal with their team Freedom Force. At the bottom of my notebook page, I had put a single, neat line through Irene's name. Dead, killed by Professor Xavier's mentally deranged son David Haller, Legion. I swallowed and took a shaky breath, still in disbelief. How could someone whose mutant power allowed her to see the future let herself be blindsided like that? I had already cried myself to sleep more than a few nights over Irene, over the unfairness of one more missed goodbye, but for the moment I had the grief under control.

More troubling, the files had little information on what had happened to Raven. She had loved Irene, _really_ loved Irene, and Raven didn't handle emotions very well. She had aided the X-Men during their battle on the shores of Muir Island against one of Professor Xavier's oldest foes, the Shadow King, but after that, the details of her whereabouts were seriously lacking. I smiled to myself ruefully. If she had been anywhere near me…Carol…in the last few years, I'm sure she had been pretty pissed off that her old enemy was running the show of me. At least somebody had missed me…

Frustrated, I continued down my list. Betsy, Ororo, Logan, and Pete were here, I could talk to them anytime, at least in Logan's case when he wasn't in a psychically induced coma, but just because they were present and accounted for didn't mean life had been any easier on them. I had gotten the gist of Ororo's story already, and had pieced together what I could of Betsy's identity crisis. Logan had missed out on the Siege Perilous because he had been off being Logan, on break from the team to clear his head or whatever it was he did. Carol had been sent by Storm, before Ororo had 'died', to bring him back, avoiding the fate of that blasted portal herself, and the pair of them had returned to find the X-Men gone and the Reavers waiting in their place. They had battled their way free of the psychotic cyborgs with the help of Jubilee, a stowaway mallrat who had hitched a ride in one of Gateway's portals to land in our abandoned Outback town. Carol and Logan had figured out what had happened to the team and had gone looking for help, for friends, rescuing the all-new, all-different Betsy Braddock in the process and getting tangled up in that mess in Genosha. Carol had stayed in Genosha with Alex, who the hell knew why, and Logan had gone with the X-Men to Shi'ar space to rescue the Professor, returning to Earth just in time to duke it out with the Shadow King.

The final battle on Muir Island hadn't been Logan's proudest moment. Lorna Dane, freed from the psychic Marauder Malice, had served as a nexus of negative energy which warped the minds of the island's inhabitants. This negativity channeled through Lorna's body fueled the Shadow King's newest host body, the Professor's son, Legion, who only months before had murdered my foster mother. When an out of control Logan had gutted Lorna in a berserker rage, it had severed this nexus and David Haller had dropped dead, too, just steps away from using his telekinetic powers to break his own father's body into pieces on the battlefield.

I hadn't seen Logan beyond the glass of his room in the infirmary. He was still recuperating, still kept unconscious most of the time. The Logan I remembered would have been healed weeks ago, but Hank said everything that could have gone wrong with his healing had. Infections, blood clots, sores, but the biggest problem continued to be the adamantium contained in the bomb that had blasted us both to kingdom come. Some of the particles, no larger than a grain of sand, had made their way into his brain and were interfering with his body's ability to heal itself at its normal rate. One more thing for me to feel guilty about. Hank and Jean had been working together using medical scanners and her powers to remove each million dollar piece one painstaking grain at a time. I smiled softly. Jean Grey was at Logan's side every chance she got, bless her. He had stood by her after Cyclops had taken off, and she loved him, you could tell that just by watching her eyes when she talked about him, by the smile in her voice. The man had finally gotten the woman of his dreams, but at a high price.

I was getting angrier with every file I read. Some were almost overly complete, but others were missing even basic information or were closed off completely. It was so…selective and I was getting fed up. The Professor and I were gonna have a little talk, Bishop or no. Carol, in my hijacked body, had stayed in Genosha to begin repairing the embattled island nation, and had eventually helped Alex form X-Factor. Of course she had jumped at a government job, Uncle Sam's girl through and through. Gritting my teeth again, I punched another inquiry into the search engine. Carol's life…or what had happened to my body over the last four years, was the most frustratingly closed off of anything I had searched so far, the information spotty at best, and again I felt like things were being hidden from me. Xavier had recruited her to lead the Blue Team after the schism with Scott Summers had driven him away, but I needed more. Come hell or high water, somebody was gonna talk to me…

Further down my list, Peter Rasputin, Colossus, had lived out his dream after the Siege Perilous as an amnesiac artist named Peter Nicholas, but it had all been stripped away, his own mind returned during the battle with the Shadow King. I felt bad for the big guy. According to Bobby, it had been a pretty rough few months for the armored Russian. Petey had learned that his brother Mikhail, who supposedly died a long time ago, was alive, but their reunion had been fleeting. Mikhail had gone crazy and killed himself, taking a whole bunch of the Morlocks with him. Pete, accompanied by a handful of the X-Men's Blue Team, had gone to Russia to break the news to his parents, but before he could, his folks had been murdered by agents of the Russian government. I couldn't believe it, it was too horrible to imagine. The only ray of sunshine, Pete had been able to rescue his little snowflake, his sister Illyana.

Problem was, when I had known Illyana, she had been, what? Fifteen? Sixteen? Best friends with the youngest X-Man at the time, Kitty Pryde. But, Illyana was now my newest neighbor in the infirmary, lookin' all of seven years old. She had spent half her life in the demon Belasco's realm, aging years in the span of a few hours, but now had been de-aged again. The X-Men's world just kept gettin' stranger and stranger. Poor little girl was sick, had a pretty wicked cold, and the big, silent Russian held a constant overprotective vigil, not that I blamed him. She was all the family he had left.

Alison Blaire, the Dazzler, and Longshot seemed to be the only happy ending I had found of my former teammates. My heart hurt a little, the twinges of a big ol' crush on Longshot still gripping me, but I was happy for them. Ali had gone through the Siege, but not Longshot, and he had eventually reunited with her, though she hadn't remembered him. The pair had returned to his home, Mojoworld, courtesy of the teleporter Lila Cheney, and had fought a war for his people's independence, ultimately pulling in the X-Men for the win. Last anybody had heard, they were happy and healthy, Ali expecting their first baby.

I shut my notebook and squeezed my eyes shut against the sting of tears. I wasn't going to cry. I wasn't. Like I said, it was just a crush, and my fantasy, my happy ending with Longshot, just wasn't in the cards.

"Had enough for today?" I jumped in surprise, and a grinning Bobby leaned over the computer console and rested his chin on top of the monitor. "You're giving me flashbacks to my college days here…brrrr…." he shuddered.

"Yeah, I think I've hit enough dead ends for one day." It was on the tip of my tongue to press him for more information, but he changed the subject quick as lightning.

"Present for you." He pulled a compact disc from the back pocket of his blue jeans.

"What's this?" I asked, turning it over in my gloved hands. _ROGUE'S JAM_ was written in all caps on the back of the CD. I raised a careful eyebrow his direction and he came around to wheel me out of the War Room, Bishop eyeing us warily as we passed.

"Well, you missed a lot of music, so I figured I'd cut through the crap, point you towards the really good stuff…"

I craned my head to look over my shoulder at him. "Bobby Drake," I giggled, "did you make me a mix tape? That's so sweet, sugar!"

"Don't say it like that," he grumbled. "It's not sweet. I'm not sweet. Grandma's cookies are sweet. I'm cool…"

"If you say so…"


	8. Chapter 8

All characters owned by Marvel Comics

Author's notes: Sorry, kind of a shorty on the chapter today, but consider it a fun little breather before things start to get even crazier for Rogue. Thanks as always for reading and reviewing!

* * *

 **Interlude: It's Not Me, It's You**

 _Nine months before…_

 _Despite the fighting and constant hurt feelings, the welcome sight of his body silhouetted against the window still took her breath away._

 _"He's my brother, Carol," he said, his voice pitched low. "I have to help him."_

 _In her chair, she leaned forward in frustration, rubbing her temples. "Sweetheart, this isn't helping, this is enabling." Alex Summers turned towards her, his usually clean cut appearance marred by days' worth of blonde stubble. "He's wanted by the federal government, the same government that signs your paychecks…"_

 _"He needs me," he pleaded, but she shook her head indignantly._

 _"No, what he needs is to move on, to deal with what happened. This…crusade is just another way for him to avoid facing it, to avoid facing Jean."_

 _Alex knelt in front of her, grasping her hands in his, an angry Carol barely stopping herself from ripping them away. "I thought with your military and CIA background, that you of all people would understand the need for extreme measures, for doing whatever it takes. Xavier's dream failed all of us, most especially him…"_

 _"Oh, believe me, sweetheart, I get it, but what you're not understanding is that there's a fine line between justice and vigilantism, that nothing to lose can easily become suicidal intentions. I don't want to see you thrown into the middle of Scott's revenge fantasy…his anger makes him sloppy, and dangerous. You do this? I won't be here when you get back…"_

* * *

 **Chapter Eight**

"Bite me," I hissed, but my tormentor just grinned.

"Promises, promises," he murmured, his silky voice raising goosebumps all over my skin despite how much I hated him right then. "But, distractin' me wit' your little fantasies ain't gonna get you out of this." He placed a muscular arm on either side of my head and moved his grinning face too close to mine. "You owe me five more reps, cherie."

I raised my chin to get him to back away, shooting daggers at him with as much venom as I could muster, but he just kept on grinning that Cheshire-cat smile. He moved back to spot for me, but he stayed close, too close. I had thought at first that maybe this Gambit had no concept of personal space, that maybe he moved too close to everybody, but from what I had witnessed so far, he only invaded mine. If I was in the same room as him he moved like he had a magnet in his hip pocket and I had the matching one, close enough to brush an arm or leg against me. When he was putting me through the torture sessions he called physical therapy it made sense, but he had started to make it a regular habit. Like I said, he didn't do it to anyone else, so I was now convinced he must have a death wish.

I was sweating and shaking, but I put down those last five bench presses, my arms wobbling noodles when I finished.

"Nice job." Gambit handed me a sweat towel and helped me shuffle towards my wheelchair. Normally, I hated the thing, but today I was so exhausted that I collapsed into it in a grateful heap. He laughed at my expression and handed me a dripping water bottle. "You'll be rid of that chair soon enough, petite." Reaching out a gloved hand, he tucked a stray white curl behind my ear. I scowled, too tired to lecture him yet again about my powers. "And you know what that means, don't you?"

I guzzled loudly. "What's that, Swamp Rat?"

He backed us out the door of the mansion's handy dandy home gym. "Means you'll be rid of the infirmary, too. You walk under your own power, Henri said you can move to your own digs upstairs."

I started in surprise, a happy surprise for once. "Seriously, Cajun?"

"Oui, cherie. Would I kid 'bout somethin' like that?" The hallways to the lower levels were empty, but as usually was the case, McCoy's lab was bustling, Hank and the Professor hard at work inside. My stomach flip-flopped uneasily as we passed. Illyana wasn't gettin' any better, and the Prof's face was haggard and heavy with worry, over her and more. The Gold Team had just returned from France and a big fight with Magneto's newest followers, the Acolytes. The Professor wasn't a man who liked being helpless, but situations were moving beyond his control. "Just think…" Gambit rambled on, "we'll be neighbors. You'll be right down the hall." We continued to roll right on by my room in the infirmary.

"Uh…" I turned in my chair, nearly brushing my face against his too damned close arm. Serve him right if I absorbed his powers, would teach him a sorely needed lesson. "Where are you takin' me?"

"Shower room. No offense, cherie, but you kind of stink. Those sponge baths ain't cuttin' it anymore, and I know your stitches are all gone, your burns sealed. McCoy said the real deal was okay."

"Shower?" My voice rang out in the hallway and echoed off the walls. Gambit winced. "I can barely stand. How the hell am I supposed to shower?"

He shrugged. "Well…"

I slammed on the wheelchair's brakes. "Oh, _hell_ no!" I twisted around to face him again. "If you think for one second I'm gonna let you get your slimy…"

He crossed his arms and that maddening smirk played at his lips. "Hate to squash another of your fantasies, cherie," his red eyes sparkled and I felt my damned traitor face flush to match. "But I was plannin' on gettin' Stormy to help you."

I turned away and crossed my arms. "You do that," I growled, and he waved as he sauntered off down the hall.

"Be right back, Rogue. Try not to miss me too much." If I could lift my arms to throw something at him, he would have been a dead man. I wheeled my chair a little further down the line, peeping at Logan's sleeping form, Jean curled alongside him. She raised her pretty face and gave me a small wave that I returned.

Further down the hall was Illyana's room, and I could see Jubilee perched on the end of the girl's bed, shaking around a stuffed animal that looked just like Nightcrawler, tail and all. Illyana, the poor girl now hooked up to a respirator, clapped in delight. The little gal wasn't doing well at all. She was gettin' sicker and sicker, and nothin' seemed to be helping. I had overheard Hank and the Professor, heard the hushed horror in their voices when they had given her sickness a name, The Legacy Virus, a gift of a madman that targeted those with the mutant gene. I shivered, my sweaty skin suddenly cold and clammy. She was just a little girl…

Interrupting my thoughts, a petite brunette woman entered Illyana's room from an interior door. My chin dropped to the floor. The woman smiled at Illyana and brushed the little girl's blonde hair from her forehead. Turning, her big brown eyes widened in shock.

"Kitty…" I whispered. As if I needed reminding of how much time I had missed, here in front of me was living proof. Kitty Pryde, the awkward teen I had known, gazed at me from the body of a woman. Kitty looked my way, unease etched across her face, and walked towards me and right through the wall thanks to her mutant ability to phase through solid objects. The ghost girl solidified in front of me, and we regarded each other in silence before she spoke.

"Is it really you?" she asked. I smiled the best I could, but it felt so awkward. I hadn't seen her in a long time, even disregarding my missing years.

"Hey, Pryde. Been a while." To my surprise, my former teammate launched herself at me, catching my wheelchair trapped form in a bear hug, the smart girl staying clear of my exposed skin.

"I can't believe it!" She dropped to her knees in front of me and squeezed my covered upper arms. "We had heard what happened, but I still didn't believe…" I stared at her, dumbfounded. "Kurt is going to flip out when I tell him!"

"Kurt?" I asked numbly, and she just squeezed me again, harder this time, the breath rushing out of me in a gasp at her grip. She shook me hard and sighed against my arm. Ororo and Remy entered the hallway and walked towards us, Gambit's eyebrow raised in question, but I just shrugged underneath Kitty's weight.

"Of course Kurt! He's missed you, been worried sick about you. He never agreed with what Carol…"

"Kitten." Ororo's voice interrupted Kitty's rambles, but I wanted to scream at Storm to shut up, to let Kitty finish her thought. "Rogue seems a bit overwhelmed by your enthusiasm."

Kitty leaned back and smiled broadly. "Ha!" She barked and sat back on her haunches. "Sorry, Rogue. Guess I got a little carried away. Why does being back at the mansion instantly reduce me to the mentality of a thirteen year old?" She stood and looked into Illyana's room. "I'd better get back, but we'll catch up later, right?"

I returned her smile. "You got it."


	9. Chapter 9

All characters owned by Marvel Comics

Author's notes: This interlude stands in for X-Factor (vol. 1) #84. I also reference Uncanny X-Men Annual #17 if anybody was looking for some homework. Hopefully this chapter makes up for the lack of Remy last round! Thanks as always for reading and reviewing!

* * *

 **Interlude: Waiting**

 _One year before…_

 _The EMTs wheeled the blood spattered body of Professor Charles Xavier through the operating room's double doors. Alex, Carol, and Rahne Sinclair, Wolfsbane, followed in Val Cooper's authoritarian wake._

 _"Doctor," Val waved her badge in the face of the bespectacled ER attendant. "Valerie Cooper, from the bureau of mutant affairs. I want to be kept apprised of his status." Carol tried to hold in the satisfied smirk that threatened to erupt when the doctor told Val where she could stick her credentials and continued about his business, that of saving the life of Charles Xavier. The Professor had been shot in New York's Central Park, preaching to a crowd of tens of thousands about tolerance and brotherhood at a Lila Cheney concert, and his condition was grave._

 _The world didn't know Xavier was a mutant, but Charles had been a longtime government associate, and that connection gave X-Factor access and an excuse to be on hand to guard over the team working to save the man. The group was reluctantly ushered to a nearby waiting room, the small space already populated with an old friend, as well as a new one they hadn't met yet._

 _"Ororo." Alex stepped forward, dragging a temperamental lupine Rahne, still unable to fully return to her human form._

 _"Alex, Carol." Ororo was accompanied by a gigantic slab of a man, his eyes obscured by round sunglasses even in the hospital. The man stood protectively over Storm, dwarfing her impressive height._

 _"Wish it could have been under better circumstances," Alex said awkwardly. "Seeing you, I mean…who's your friend?" Introductions were made of the man called Bishop, and for hours there was nothing to do but wait. Carol and Alex took turns pacing, Val pouting, and Rahne sat slumped in a vinyl covered chair pockmarked with duct-taped holes._

 _The teen finally jumped to her feet, canines glinting. "It's been hours since they brought him in! I'm going daft here!"_

 _Alex did his best to calm the girl down. "Listen, Rahne," his voice was soothing, but it made Carol cringe. Since they learned Rahne had been bonded to Alex as a mutate captive in Genosha, she could hardly stand to be around the two of them together. She knew there was nothing funny going on between the pair, but she couldn't help, childishly, feeling like the third wheel. "I want you to head out to Central Park, see if you can pick up any clues." Alex turned to Carol. "Go with her, please."_

 _She started in surprise. "Why?" She frowned, but Alex's voice shifted to an annoyed whisper._

 _"Because I'm asking you to."_

 _"You're going to have to do better than that. If someone takes another shot at Xavier…"_

 _"Then I'm ordering you to." His jaw had a familiar stubborn set to it. "We've got plenty of firepower. The fewer mutants hanging around here, the better."_

 _Her first instinct was to dig in her heels and fight back, but instead she bit her tongue and slammed the double doors so hard on her way out she ripped them from their hinges._

 _Rahne padded after Carol on all fours. "Trouble in paradise, lassie?" the girl snickered._

 _Paradise? Had it ever been that good between them, even when it was? Everything had happened so fast, maybe they never had a chance._

 _"Bite me, Fido."_

* * *

 **Chapter Nine**

"Do you still take way too much cream in your coffee?"

"That's right. Almost all cream, just a shot of coffee." I laughed easily. "Some things never change, Pryde."

Kitty set two steaming mugs on the kitchen table between us. It was early, just after sunrise, and for the moment we had the usually bustling kitchen to ourselves. She looked like she hadn't slept in a week, there were dark circles beneath her big brown eyes. She tried to take a big sip of coffee but had to stifle a yawn behind her hand. "Sorry, Rogue," she sniffled. "Illyana had a rough night." She lifted the coffee up again. "I'm gonna need a whole pot of this. Just hook it to my veins!"

I was worried about her. Not sleeping, barely eating, she was keeping a near constant vigil over her young friend, only emerging from Illyana's room in the infirmary when she was forced to. I had wanted to get her alone to ask her some questions and just happened to luck into one of her caffeine breaks this morning, but looking at her, the weight of the world digging heavy lines into her little face, all I wanted was to try and lighten her mood, to get her to think of anything but death and dying and sickness.

"So, England, huh?"

She brightened. "Yeah. Almost like old times. Me, Fuzzy Elf, and Rachel…"

"Rachel!?" I had missed that one in the files. Rachel Summers, the alternate timeline daughter of Jean Grey and Scott Summer had been an X-Man, but had disappeared years ago without a trace.

"Ray's…okay. As good as she could be after what she's been through, but I guess that applies to all of us."

"Amen to that, sugar." I raised my coffee cup up and she clinked hers against it.

"Or something like that."

I smiled at her slyly. "Any chance you and Pete…"

She groaned. "Not you, too? Ororo was pestering me about him yesterday. I just got here, and we're just friends! We're only spending time together because of Illyana, there's nothing else going on. Hardly my idea of romance…" She arched an eyebrow above the steam spilling from the mug at her lips. "Speaking of getting closer, what about you and Gambit?" I opened my mouth to protest, but her other eyebrow shot up at the sound of the kitchen door swinging open. "Oh, speak of the devil," she whispered, and I felt my face turn red.

"Bonjour, mademoiselles," Gambit strode through the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee, leaning that gorgeous backside of his against the counter. He sighed as he took a slow sip, and a soft smile graced those full lips.

"Good morning, Gambit," Kitty slurred through another yawn, but waggled her eyebrows at me.

"Morning," I tried to kick Pryde under the table, but felt my good leg whoosh through hers when it should have connected. She stuck her tongue out at me and wiggled intangible fingers through the table top.

Gambit walked towards us, lazily scratching his flat stomach, his hand revealing a strip of tanned and toned muscle between his t-shirt and jeans. "Thought you had a therapy session wit' de Professor, chere?"

I stared daggers at the smirking Pryde. "He couldn't meet with me this morning."

"The Professor and Hank are with Peter and Illyana," Kitty explained.

"Well, you're all mine then, chere. Finish that glass of milk you callin' coffee and meet me downstairs." He waved on his way out. "We're walking today!" he called over his shoulder, and Kitty watched him go.

"Yum," she said as the door swung shut.

"Kitty!"

She stood and stretched, smiling. "Am I lying? I wish he looked at me like he looks at you…" I scowled and leaned back, crossing my arms in irritation, but she just winked at me. "I better get back. I'll see you later."

I grinned wickedly. "Tell Petey I said hi."

She flipped me off before she phased through the door, but I heard her chuckle echo down the hall.

* * *

We're walking today, he had said. I huffed out an exasperated breath. "But, I've _been_ walking…" I muttered, trembling and dripping, knee deep in my physical therapy session. My voice was whinier than I would have hoped.

"Don't try to fool me, I see what you're doin'. You need to stop draggin' that leg, petite. You not doin' it any good if you just shufflin' along, you need to put weight on it." Gambit crossed his arms over his chest and we stared each other down in between two parallel bars set waist high. My perspiring hands grasped the bars knuckle white, and I was giving it my best effort to not give in to the quivering in my arms and fall down onto my ass. Who knew if would hurt so much to take ten lousy steps? It had been a long time comin', I hadn't walked so far on my own since my first hours awake.

"I _can't_ put weight on it. It _hurts_ ," I hissed. "What kind of physical therapist are you? You want me to hurt myself?"

He gave me a surprisingly stern look and stepped towards me, setting off my panic buzzer. He placed his gloved hands on top of mine. "I know its uncomfortable, girl, but it won't hurt you. I won't let it." He was a good head taller than me, well over six foot standing straight, and he leaned down to catch my eyes. "You're healing, you just need to push yourself, or you gonna be in that infirmary forever. Is that what you want?"

"No," I said, my voice thick with phlegm.

"That's my girl…" He stepped backwards and held out his arms. "Come to Gambit." I rolled my eyes and ground my teeth together, taking a painful lurch forward.

"Not…your…girl…" I growled. Every shaking, shuddering step I took, he backed up, his jackass grin widening the further I went. At the end of the bar my legs gave out and I collapsed, but Gambit caught me before I hit the ground. His arms were muscular and warm and he winked at me.

"Not yet, petite." It was cheesy, but so adorable that I started laughing, and he joined me as he brought us both to our feet. He leaned me back against the bar and made for my wheelchair.

"Gambit," I chewed my lip thoughtfully while he helped me get settled and turned us towards the door. "Can I ask you something?"

"Oui. As long as I don't have to answer it."

I ignored his attempt at a joke and continued. "How the hell did you end up doing this…physical therapy for the team, I mean? It seems a little weird, what with your background and everything…" I looked down at my gloves to avoid his eyes, his long strides gliding us effortlessly down the hallway.

"My background?" He chuckled. "That's very diplomatic of you, cherie."

"I'm serious, Cajun."

"Well, it just sort of happened. Team had the need, 'specially after Jeannie got hurt so bad. With my…background as you call it, I had some crossover experience, trained extensively in martial arts, first aid…when you pullin' heists, you gotta be prepared to triage yourself if you get injured." He leaned close to my ear. "That, and I think your Professor was worried about me being bored, wanted to keep me busy. Idle hands, you know."

We paused at the entrance to the Blackbird's hangar to let the Gold Team, a silent Storm leading a trail of marching X-Men, pass us by. Ororo nodded in greeting, but continued on without stopping to chat. Bishop and Pete kept moving, but Bobby rambled our way.

"Hey, guys!" Always cheerful to a fault, he grinned wide. "How'd therapy go today?"

"Ten whole steps." I screwed up my face at my own lack of progress, but Bobby looked ready to break into a cheer.

"She did amazing," Gambit grinned ear to ear. "Think maybe we go swimmin' tomorrow now that the burns on her legs are healed."

I craned my neck to glare holes into him. "I don't think so, sugar. Swimming and my powers don't mix."

He winked and smiled that devil smile of his. "I'll wear a wetsuit, cherie, long as you wear de bikini."

Bobby laughed. "Rogue in a bikini? Count me in, man!"

I rolled my eyes and changed the subject. "Where you guys headed in such a hurry?"

His cute little face fell. "Muir Island," he whispered so low Gambit and I had to lean forward to hear him.

"Muir Island?" Gambit hung far enough over my chair that I felt his heart beat on the back of my head.

Bobby ran a hand through his hair and exhaled. "Yeah, Jeannie's coming with us, we're, uh, going to visit…Mastermind." He raised his eyebrows at the name and cast a sidelong glance at the open hangar doors. Inside, Peter, shining in his armored form, stood at the end of the Blackbird's ramp and began pushing Jean's chair into the jet. "I don't get it. I guess the bastard is sick, says he's dying and wants to make amends, so he called Jean. If you ask me, it smells like a trap. No way would Logan let her go…"

My hand fluttered to my throat. Mastermind. Every X-Man alive could recite the story of Dark Phoenix by heart, and the name of the man that had sent her over the edge sent shivers up my spine.

Gambit stood up and crossed his arms. "Mastermind? On Muir Island?" He said it like he didn't believe Bobby.

"Yeah, seriously." Bobby kept on whispering. "This isn't going to be awkward or anything…I don't know why Jeannie is even giving this guy the time of day after what he did to her, or who he thought was her…I gotta go, guys, or I'm gonna get left behind. See ya later." He waved and turned. "Keep me updated on that bikini. If you're taking requests, polka dots are always a classic. And if you see Warren," he yelled over his shoulder, "tell him to move his ass or he's flying all the way across the Atlantic on his own wings."

Gambit deposited me in my room, uncharacteristically distracted. "I gotta get going, chere. McCoy needs me to get him a few things from town. You okay getting cleaned up yourself today, or you need me to send down Jubilee?" I shook my head and he leaned over and absently kissed the top of my hair before I could stop him. He left me with my mouth gaping open at his continued nonchalance concerning my powers. I had hoped we could talk some more, but right then I was too flustered by what he had done. Such a little thing, but for me, that kind of contact wasn't something that happened every day and for good reason. I was dangerous and he needed to keep his distance like everybody else…

I gathered up a change of clothes and some toiletries, and headed to clean up, thankful there were seats in the showers. I could stand for a decent amount of time now, though Gambit was right, damn him, only leaning on my good leg, but the seat would come in handy just in case I got too tired. I'd rather not have to yell for help. That could be more than a little embarrassing, depending on who answered.

My path to the locker room took me by Illyana's room. She and an exhausted Kitty were takin' a well-deserved nap. Friends forever really meant something to Pryde, she and Illyana had been the best after a then seven year old Illyana had emerged from a demon's realm as a teenager, aging years in what appeared in our time to be hours. I remembered the two of them, giggling and troublemaking on a sometimes galactic level. Jean had said even after Illyana had been de-aged, Kitty had still called her from England, had still remained her friend, even though the girl had no memory of all the time they had spent together. She was getting sicker and sicker and the Professor and Hank were scrambling…

"You would think, of all people, I would be used to how unfair life can sometimes be." I whipped my head to the harsh voice behind me. Warren Worthington III, Archangel, stood in the middle of the hallway. When I had known Warren in my misspent criminal youth, he had been a beautiful blonde angel, seemingly sent from the heavens themselves. Time had been cruel to Warren, but was he any less beautiful now that he looked to be comin' from hell instead? He curled his upper lip, his once porcelain skin a pale shadowed blue thanks to the monster Apocalypse.

I nodded. "It's sad when somebody that young had to bear so much pain," I replied.

Warren stood right next to me and looked down his nose. "It is sad, but I wasn't talking about Illyana. I was talking about you."

"Me?"

"You," he lowered his voice. "Or, more specifically, the woman you murdered. Again."

Anxiety wound itself in a thick rope around my torso, and I backed up my chair to get a good look at him. "Warren," I whispered, "I didn't…"

He moved towards my chair, each step forcing me to back down the hall. "Yes, you did. Twice. And yet, here you sit, alive and well, Carol Danvers gone. Where's the fairness in that, where's the justice? Trash like you, garbage like you and your little Cajun buddy, or like that runt Wolverine, get off scot free, while good people like Illyana, like Carol, like _me_ , suffer."

I shook my head and tried to calm him. "Warren, Logan and Remy have nothin' to do with what I..."

His smile made my blood run cold. "Oh? It's Remy now, is it? Well, did your precious Remy happen to mention his Interpol record, or the dead wife he abandoned in between trying to get into your pants? He's _playing_ with you, it's what he does…" He grabbed hold of the handles of my wheelchair and I screeched to a halt, trapped by his sneering face. "The world would have been a better place if you had died instead of her. You have no friends, no family, no one who loves you…you have nothing, and you are nothing. There was no one to mourn you for four years, and no one would have given a damn if you had stayed gone."

"That's not true…" My voice trembled. I should have been angry, raging, screaming at him and clawing at that pretty face, but his words were slicing into me because part of me believed him.

"Oh, yes, I forgot. Your loving terrorist family? Mother of the year, Mystique, you're thinking she missed you, she loved you, right?" His eyes glinted maliciously. "Loved you so much she's the one who stabbed you right through your heart and blew your broken body to kingdom come. And then there's Alex…"

An inhuman growl echoed off the metallic walls. Warren spun and doubled over in agony when the thunk of Logan's adamantium laced fist connected with his stomach. Archangel dropped to his knees and spat a crimson fan of blood onto the floor. A furious Logan stood over him, fists clenched, the circular pads from the EKG monitors still stuck to the matted hair of his Tom Selleck chest. He was awake, he was walking, and, sugar, he was pissed. He bent down and grabbed ahold of Warren's costume, yanking the gagging Archangel upright.

"You got it wrong, bub," Logan snarled. "You're the one who's nothing." Warren howled and sixteen feet of metal wings sprang from his back to fill the hallway. I threw myself hard against the wall and out of my chair, hitting the floor, but not before razor sharp edges kissed my face. Logan roared and popped his claws, moving his way between me and Warren, whose voice had risen to a manic pitch.

"You wouldn't be defending her, runt, not it you knew who she was, what she did!" Warren's cruel words ripped into me. He was right. Long ago, Logan had rescued Carol Danvers from a KGB prison when the rest of the world had given her up for dead, and he had still cared for her enough to shield our body from an explosion. When Wolverine found out she was gone…my heart jumped in my throat when I saw the claws on Logan's hand twitch once above me.

Without looking at me, he called over his broad shoulder. "Rogue." Warren and I were frozen mirror images at the mention of my name. "You okay, darlin'?"

I was real close to dissolving into a messy puddle of tears, but I answered. "Yeah, sugar."

He nodded, his predator eyes still narrowed at Warren. "Ain't you got a plane to catch, flyboy?"

A look of revulsion sullied Warren's face. "You…animals…deserve each other. You're not X-Men, you're a joke. I'm beginning to think Scott had the right idea." He turned suddenly, something I would have assumed was impossible in the small space of the corridor with those wings, and without another word got airborne and continued on past the hangar doors, on his way to freedom.

Still in a heap on the floor, I struggled to sit up, my bum leg wrenched and throbbing beneath me. Mystique had stabbed me? It wasn't possible. Raven may not have been your typical doting mother, but no matter what, I knew, I knew to my heart and soul that she'd never do anything to truly hurt me. A sick feeling slithered through me. Nothing to hurt me, except send me after a woman who had been invulnerable, who had superstrength, a woman who had given me no choice but to use my power against her, damning us both. Logan turned to face me and I looked up at him, so afraid of what he was gonna say.

"Logan, I…" I shrank away, but he wasn't having it. In the blink of an eye, he knelt next to me and crushed me to him, keeping my hair and long-sleeved shirt between me and his bare chest, my second close contact of the day.

"Good to see you, darlin'," he whispered roughly.

"Good to be seen, sugar."

He jerked back from me suddenly, his eyes unfocused, his body rigid, and I thought for a moment his skin had brushed mine. It hadn't. "Logan!" Panicked, I shook his shoulder until he snapped out of it, his blue eyes narrowing to mine.

"Rogue," he murmured, "I think I need to talk to Chuck..." 


	10. Chapter 10

All characters owned by Marvel Comics

Author's notes: This interlude was inspired by X-Factor (vol 1) #87, but in this timeline the team went to therapy as part of their interview process, not only after being traumatized during X-Cutioner's Song.

Okay, long chapter this round, lots happens, and some very big questions are answered. I have to admit, I struggled a bit with how this chapter ultimately turned out. Did someone get the punishment they deserved? Was it enough? Nowhere near? I rewrote and rewrote and rewrote, picking at it like a scab, but finally decided to just go with my gut and what I thought would be in Rogue's heart. Let me know what you think, I'm always up for a good debate!

Also, a little Remy to brighten your day...er, sort of. Their interaction this time is based on another of my favorite Romy moments. Enjoy!

* * *

 **Interlude: Couch Time**

 _One year, ten months ago…_

 _"How did that make you feel?_

 _Carol snorted and crossed her legs. "Really? You're going to go with that?" She crossed her arms and avoided the eyes of Doc Samson, psychologist to the super-powered._

 _The man placed a yellow legal pad in his lap. "Carol, the federal government is requiring that all of X-Factor be analyzed by a professional. If joining this team is what you truly want, why don't we make the best of the situation? I see from your files that you've had a very eventful few years. I'm here if you want to talk about it."_

 _She bit her lip. Spilling her guts to someone she had never met was the last thing she wanted to do, and the first thing he had asked about was Rogue, a subject that for her own sanity she considered closed. It was how she made it through the guilt that threatened to drown her on a daily basis. "Fine," she said, "but next question." Mentioning Rogue? Strike one, baseball fans._

 _Doc Samson drew his eyebrows together and his lips flattened into a thin line. "Very well." He shook his head and the green tinged curls that cascaded from his head in waves danced in the dim light. "Your…relationship with Alex Summers…teammate, soon to be your squad leader. Does that seem appropriate to you?"_

 _Strike two. Gritting her teeth, Carol swung one leg impatiently. "Yes."_

 _The doctor reclaimed his pad of paper and scribbled notes. "I understand it has been rather a whirlwind. Do you see that as…"_

 _Strike three, Carol thought, and stood, not willing to give him the opportunity for anything more. "We're finished here." She grabbed her jacket and turned to leave._

 _He folded his hands and placed them in his lap. "No we are not. Not if you are intent on becoming a member of X-Factor." He nodded at the couch she had vacated. "Sit."_

 _She mentally wrestled with herself. Joining the team had been her idea. How would she explain it to Alex if she walked away now? With a huff, she thudded onto the leather sofa. "Yes," she said calmly. "Things with Alex and I moved very quickly."_

 _"The life of a superhero can be quite uncertain. Wouldn't you agree?"_

 _Carol gave him a withering stare. "Do you have a point to make, Doctor, or is this some test to see how I handle stressful situations?"_

 _He chuckled, but made another note on his pad, much to Carol's discomfort. "I'm not here to make points, I'm here to help you come to your own conclusions."_

 _Exhaling slowly, she fought the urge to scream at the man. This was ridiculous, and she was going to kill Val Cooper for putting her through this, she knew it had to have been that blonde bitch's idea._

 _"It is not a sign of weakness, Carol, to want someone by your side in the world in which we live. Working to save those that hate and fear you can certainly be a confusing proposition. You risk your life daily for people, many of whom would rather see you dead. Wanting some stability, needing someone to lean on in the storm, those feelings can certainly manifest themselves as love…"_

 _That was it. Despite his protests and the consequences, she stormed from his office, nearly colliding with a pacing Pietro Maximoff._

 _Quicksilver skidded to a stop and rolled his eyes. "Finally! It seems like I've been kept waiting for an eternity!"_

 _A sick guilt began to dissolve her anger. "Go to hell, Pietro," she mumbled as she brushed past him. How was she ever going to explain this to Alex?_

* * *

 **Chapter Ten**

When Logan finished spilling his guts to the Professor, I was too stunned to even cry.

A heavy silence hung over our teacher's study, finally broken by the man himself. "Logan," The Professor's voice was cautious footsteps. "You are certain you heard her correctly?"

Logan didn't turn around from where he leaned a burly forearm on the window overlooking the grounds. "Think I'd say it if I didn't?" He shook his head. "I know what you're thinking, Chuck, that maybe I got hurt so bad I don't know which way is straight, that maybe those adamantium chunks Swiss-cheesed my brain, but I'm tellin' you, that's what she said." His jaw tensed. "It was Carol's last confession, like she had to get it off her chest, like she knew she was…" He hung his head low.

I moved my eyes to the floor and followed the pattern of the Persian rug to keep from screaming. One small bright spot from everything Logan had just told us? I knew I hadn't done this to myself, _knew_ I hadn't given up my body, purposefully hidden myself away for four years, _knew_ Carol had been lying through my damn teeth, and now they all would, too.

"I would not have thought Elisabeth capable of something like this, not only her character but in terms of her telepathy. Suppressing a psyche at this level, essentially burying the personality of another deeply enough that it left behind no trace, takes a tremendous amount of skill and raw power. I confess, I only knew Elisabeth from her interactions with Douglas Ramsey before her transformation, but such a thing would be impossible with her mutation at its current level. She is simply not a powerful enough psi to accomplish such a feat, and certainly not without Carol's assistance. I would have liked to have touched base with Jean before we proceeded in order to ascertain her impressions of Elisabeth's past abilities in her original body, but unfortunately we cannot wait. This has gone on for far too long."

I listened to their back and forth and tried to grab ahold of what Logan had told us. Elisabeth Braddock, Psylocke, my teammate if not necessarily my friend, had helped the Carol Danvers that had been inside of me keep control of my body. Together they had somehow buried my psyche deep enough that even Jean and the Professor hadn't been able to find me until Carol had been dead and gone. Carol confessed it all to Logan before the blade Mystique drove into us had ended her life.

"Darlin', you still with us?" I blinked and realized Logan was crouching on the carpet in front of me, his big warm paw on my scrub pant covered knee. I took a shuddering gulp of air and met his eyes. "I swear," he whispered fiercely. "Ororo, me…we didn't know. Carol told us you needed time, and Betsy backed her up. If I had any idea…"

"Why," I choked on the word and tried again. "Why did she do this to me?" Carol, I understood. But Betsy?

The Professor stood and straightened his sport coat and tie. "That, Rogue, is an excellent question, and one I intend to have answered." He placed his fingers to his temples, but paused and regarded me carefully. "You do not need to be here, Rogue, if you are concerned. We can certainly have this discussion without you if you would prefer."

"NO."I stiffened and sat up, that slow fire of anger stoking in my belly. "She took four years of my life. I want to know why."

Logan's eyes glinted like sharpened steel. "I'm right here, darlin'. She won't hurt you again." The rage, the betrayal practically rolled off of his skin. Logan considered himself a good judge of character, it was hard to beat the bullshit detector of someone with enhanced senses, and he had vouched for Betsy when they had found her wearing a new face, had defended her when others wouldn't have given her the time of day. The murderous look in his eyes told me it was taking a lot to not find her and gut her with his claws for what she had done. As sick as it was, it felt nice to know he still cared for me that much. I had thought when he woke up that he would be sad, maybe angry that Carol was gone and I was in her place, but I had been wrong. He was angry, but more at Carol for what she had done to me. Maybe it was too raw, the feelings too fresh, and he would mourn his old friend in his own time, but for now she seemed to be the furthest thing from his heart. He rose and lightly touched my shoulder before he perched on the arm of the sofa between me and the door.

The Professor reached out with his mind and summoned Psylocke to his office. In a matter of moments, an Elisabeth Braddock in full uniform prowled through the door. Her watchful eyes narrowed when she realized she had an audience, but her face revealed nothing.

"You wished to see me, Charles?" Logan twitched next to me and the Professor shot him a look out of the corner of his eye. He was probably working overtime to shield our thoughts, especially Logan's fury, from Betsy. Psylocke would have never come into that study if she could read what was surely in the Wolverine's mind.

The Professor gestured to the couch opposite ours. "Yes. There is something that has been brought to my attention. Please, sit." He sat when she did, taking his position behind the massive antique desk. How she sat in that costume of hers, I'll never know. If you needed a bikini wax just to wear your ninja gear, there was a problem in my book. Though, maybe a bigger problem was why I was cracking jokes in my head during something so serious.

Tenting his fingers, Xavier observed Betsy cautiously, while she showed us all her mastery of resting bitch face. The Professor started slowly. "One of the goals of this school, and by extension, the X-Men, has been to strive for the betterment of society by bettering the lives of individuals. As a teacher and mentor, I have tried to lead through example, to provide my students with the tools necessary to make difficult decisions. I may not always agree with some of the choices each of you make in the heat of the moment, but I find I can support those made with the best of intentions at heart, when you are striving for the greater good. Means must justify the ends, but the world is rarely black and white in the struggle between life and death..."

Betsy's eyes moved slowly between Logan, the Professor, and I, and her posture shifted imperceptibly, her muscles tensed, ready. "While I love a rousing sermon as much as the next, Charles, I do find myself wondering if there is a point to all of this?" Her eyes stopped at me and she tilted her head slightly. A wave of anger crashed over me, but I felt the Professor put a mental hand over my mouth to keep me quiet.

"The point, Elisabeth, is that as part of this school, your actions must reflect, at the very basic, strong moral principles. For ordinary humans to accept mutants and their powers, especially when dealing with something as invasive as telepathy, trust is required, a sacred trust that you broke when you violated the mind of a fellow teammate."

"And what of her violation?" Her voice was cold, as dead as her eyes. " _Violation_. What a wonderful euphemism, Charles. She murdered Carol Danvers, and you welcomed her into your home with open arms. Where was the morality, the justice in your decision?"

Logan snarled beside me. "So who made you judge, jury, and executioner, Betts?"

"Who made _you_?" she shot back. "How dare you, Logan, of all people, stand in judgement of me! You take the law into your hands with every slash of your unbreakable claws. I merely seized an opportunity to mete out a well-deserved sentence."

The ice in the Professor's voice dropped the room ten degrees. "I find it very disturbing that one of my students can so calmly justify such a reprehensible action. It is a quantum leap to classify Rogue's absorption of Carol's mind as cold-blooded murder. It was an accident, she was barely more than a child at the time and did not know the full extent of her power. While ignorance is never an excuse in the eyes of the law, Rogue has made reparations and the real Carol Danvers still lives and flourishes in her original body. Whereas you, Elisabeth, with all the power at your disposal, know better than any the consequences of your actions. You and Major Danvers continued this…charade…for years, assuring me you were both doing everything you could to help your missing teammate in her time of need, living in my home while the pair of you lied to my face. Instead of aiding her, you left Rogue to rot in the depths of her own mind, all while working to conceal the traces of your mistake."

"My mistake?" Betsy stood suddenly, the bitch no longer resting. "Letting her crime remain unpunished was the mistake!" Logan was on his feet in the blink of an eye and bared his teeth and claws. Betsy's laugh was cold. "Is that how you now see me, Charles? A mistake to be rectified? Carol is gone, is it my turn?"

"Logan, no!" I wanted to jump up and wipe that sick smile off of her face, and I nearly went for Logan's bare skin with mine to absorb his power, but I wouldn't do that to him again, not after what I had inadvertently put him through. They squared off against one another in the middle of Xavier's study, two predators taking their measure. "Don't do it, sugar!" I pleaded. "She ain't worth it!"

"And you are?" Betsy spat.

I didn't want her blood on my hands, but it seemed she had no such compunction. "What did I ever do to you, Betsy, to make you hate me so much?"

"You didn't do anything to me, you did it to Carol Danvers. You ripped her from her rightful body and sentenced her to a slow death, left to watch the world through eyes that were not her own from the silent prison of your mind! This was a grave miscarriage of justice, one I could not, _would_ not, let stand. Carol deserved her chance, her freedom! You should have stayed buried!" Logan lunged for her, and her psychic knife, the focused totality of her telepathic powers, flashed to life.

 _'ENOUGH!'_ The Professor stopped them dead in their tracks with a single thought. "I, Elisabeth, am not as cruel, as calculating in my decisions. You may take that as a sign of weakness, but..."

She sneered and backed towards the door, her psychic knife still pulsing. "And what, Professor, do you intend to do about it? I have broken no law, and using your powers against me would make you a hypocrite of the highest level."

God dammit, as messed up as it was, as furious and hurt as I was, I had a sick feeling she was right. I didn't want her to die for what she had done to me, didn't want the Professor to wipe her mind or take her powers, that would make us just as bad as she was. An eye for an eye? That was a slippery slope that could be turned against me after what I had done to Carol. We couldn't arrest her or put her on trial, and even if we could, who would hold her? S.H.I.E.L.D.? The Avengers? They'd probably lock up the whole lot of us, too. If we took care of her in house, where would we keep her? Would we lock her away in the lower depths of the mansion never to be seen again? Just the sight of her made my stomach turn, I didn't want to be anywhere near her anymore. All I wanted was to never have to see her face again. I just wanted it over.

The Professor nodded his head like he had heard me, which o' course he had. "Very well, Rogue. Though it pains me to admit it, there is nothing I can do to you, Elisabeth, that would equal the pain you have caused, not without becoming that which we fight so hard to overcome. What I cannot, will not abide, is your continued presence in my home. You have until morning to vacate the premises, at which point you will be escorted from the grounds. Your affiliation with the X-Men is over, your security clearance stripped. Be thankful I do not see fit at this time to do more, but know this: if you ever seek retaliation or retribution against Rogue, or any other mutant for that matter, if I find you have used your telepathic abilities against another being, I will find you, and you will never see me coming."

The Professor was the only thing that stopped Logan from tearing her to pieces on her way out the door.

* * *

Hours later, I sat and stared over the night blackened grounds, the view from the rooftop new and different, yet comfortingly familiar. Perched at the edge, my injured leg dangling beneath me, the sandy scrape of the shingles bit at my bare skin. I sighed, inhaling the smell of the woods, of grass. This used to be my spot, before the rebuild, before the years in the dusty barren Australian Outback, before the time spent as a frozen nothing in a mental void. I shifted and winced, trying my best to get comfortable, but the puckered scar from my healed chest wound stretched beneath the loose tank top I wore. I knew I wasn't supposed to be up here, McCoy would pitch a fit if he knew I had climbed out here when I was barely allowed to leave the hospital wing, but he was knee deep in his lab. I was under strict orders to stay put, but I just had to get outside after my run-ins with Warren and Betsy.

Both were gone, Betsy hadn't even waited until morning to get out of dodge. I wasn't sure how I felt about her exile. Did I think she deserved to be punished? And if so, how? Tortured? Maimed? Imprisoned? By who? Under whose authority? There was no real precedence for this in the history of the X-Men, usually it was villains we were chastising, not one of our own. The Professor had taken his cue from my mind when he kicked her out, but I was still a conflicted angry jumble. All this was just one more mess I couldn't bring myself to think about, but one thing I was sure of? I was glad she was gone. I could hardly stand to look at her anymore it hurt my heart so much. When I was stronger, we'd maybe have it out between us. Until then...

Panic rippled goosebumps up the length of my exposed skin. Logan had done his best to calm me down after what had happened, but the truth of it was, the time had maybe come for me to leave, too. Did they even want me here? A snarly voice deep down reminded me that nobody did, never had. My continued presence was pullin' the team apart. I was nothing but a thief and a murderer, had taken the life of Carol Danvers not once, but twice. The worst part, I was still too hurt to leave, and my injuries made it nearly impossible on my own, I still couldn't drive or walk unaided long distances. I was trapped. The moonlit grounds blurred in a haze of tears and I covered my mouth with a hand to muffle a sob.

"Y'supposed to be in bed." The voice was rough and smooth at the same time, silk slid slowly over gravel. I jumped, the pain in my leg stabbing anew. My time was up. Gambit was back, and McCoy had sent his enforcer to bring me back. I frantically wiped the traitorous tears that had slid their way down my cheeks. "Doctor's orders, cherie," the voice smirked.

"Let me guess, Gambit. You're here to fill the prescription." I didn't turn my head towards the cupola that lead back into the mansion, but I heard his light footsteps tread across the rooftop towards me, could imagine the playful smile that surely tugged at those lips. Those lips…those eyes…I couldn't stand to be near him right now, he was my own personal torture chamber, hot as hades, he'd surely burn me if I touched him. It's not like I hadn't ever flirted with guys before, but thanks to my powers that was the beginning and end of most of my relationships. I was far from okay with it, but it was what it was. Why the hell was this man getting to me so badly? He was so… _infuriating_ , never took no for an answer. A thief used to getting what he wanted, no matter the price if everyone was to be believed, a man covered in shadows, a man not to be trusted. For him, the bigger the challenge, the better the game. The flirting was fun, but I was kidding myself if I believed it meant anything to him. He only wanted me because he couldn't have me, and if there ever was a miracle, if I could ever learn to control my powers the way Carol had, Gambit would be gone in a cloud of dust. So, why did my palms start to sweat whenever he was near me? Why did I find him so…interesting? He was gorgeous, no denying that, but there was more, behind those eyes, there was something else, something sweet and caring, and lonely…or was I just telling myself that? Was Warren right? Was Gambit just playing with me?

He crouched next to me and lit a cigarette, the orange flames highlighting a chiseled jaw decorated with its usual stubble. He spoke with his lips wrapped around it. "That wasn't my intention, no. But, now that you mention it…"

I sighed, biting my lower lip, and leaned my head back to look for the twinkling of the stars. "Can ya' just…leave me alone, Remy? Please?"

He blew a stream of smoke into the night sky, the burning end of the cigarette reflected in his eyes. "You sure about that, petite?"

"Yes," I replied, but my voice shook on the word.

He took another drag, then ground it out against the rooftop. "Funny. Way I hear it, you been alone a long time. That's no way to live."

My temper stared to get the better of me. "That's the way it has to be."

"Non, that's how you want it to be."

I swung narrowed eyes towards him. "You think I want this? To be at the mercy of my powers? T'be so out of control that the slightest touch takes a piece of a person's soul…or worse? I have t'be alone…"

He scooted towards me, but I was out of rooftop, nowhere to go. "Out of control?" he whispered roughly. "Your whole life is about being in control. Controlling who and where and when, you throw a wall around yourself, girl, a fortress protecting you from anybody tryin' to get in…"

The anger bubbling just under my skin boiled over furiously. "And what about you? You're preachin' to me all about control, about cutting loose, but when have you ever reigned it in? You're completely ridiculous! You act like you're so much better than everybody here, but you're just like them, every word that passes those lips is nothing but a lie, a manipulation! Is this all just a big game to you? Does it even matter if someone gets hurt?" I childishly let out the other thought I had kept picking at like a scab since my conversation with Warren. "Were you even plannin' on telling me you were married, or had that slipped your mind?"

He leaned over, coming centimeters from touching his body against mine. I gasped, my heart hammering, his eyes dangerous. "We tellin' secrets now, Rogue? Nobody know where you really come from, don't even know your real name, but that's just more of the same, isn't it? A way for you to keep everybody at arm's length. Like I said, it's no way to live, cherie."

"What am I supposed to do?" I hissed, unable to escape his stare. "It's better this way. I can't risk hurtin' anyone else." We stared at each other across the night. He was so close, too close, making my head spin.

His lips were so near, I could feel each syllable he breathed against mine. "You listen to me, girl. Anybody that cares about you be more than willin' to take the risk." He leaned back abruptly and stood, stepping cat-like back towards the mansion, leaving me practically panting, my still aching scars restricting every heaving breath. He called back over his shoulder. "You come find me when you figure that out."

* * *

By the time I hobbled down from the roof it was nearly dawn. The night and day had given me too much to think about and my head pounded to match the throbbing in my leg. Using a cane, I shuffled slowly through the halls back towards the infirmary, expecting them to be deserted at this late hour, but ran smack into Bobby Drake, nearly knocking us both to the ground. One more thing I had discovered missing since Carol was gone, my coordination. I had gotten too used to flight and superstrength givin' me a certain amount of grace, and my body was havin' a hard time adjusting.

He held me out from his chest and looked me up and down. "What the hell are you doing without your wheelchair? I came to see you in the infirmary and you're not there, then that sleazeball Gambit says you're up on the freaking roof? Are you crazy?"

I wrenched myself from his grasp and prepared to give him a piece of my mind, but in the soft light of the hall I took a good look at him. Bobby's face was a mess of scrapes and bruises, and his costume was torn. I laid a careful hand on his cheek and my heart sank when he recoiled from my touch. "Sugar," I said quietly, "I thought y'all were on Muir Island? What happened?"

He sighed and slowly leaned into my gloved hand. "It was a disaster, just like I said it would be. Mastermind screwed with our heads, big surprise, then some whack-job named the X-Cutioner attacked us."

"Is Jean…?"

"No, she's okay. Pete's not, though. This X-Cutioner guy nailed him pretty hard with some alien weapon. They've got him downstairs in the infirmary. Then it's my turn."

I tiled his chin up so he would look at me. "Your turn?" His cuts and scrapes had seemed superficial at first glance, but I pulled back and patted him over.

That got a grin out of him, but just barely, and he grabbed my hands in his. "Stop, that tickles… Jean, Bishop, and I got pulled into Mastermind's little fantasy world. The Professor just wants to make sure we're all okay." He shook his head. "We got our asses handed to us, almost got beat by some third-rate douchebag. Warren never even showed!"

I grimaced. "That'd be my fault, sugar." I filled him in on our dangerous little spat in the hallway, Bobby's wide eyes gettin' more livid every second.

"He's always been such a dick." His gloved finger lightly traced the razor thin scratch from where Warren's metal wings had kissed my cheek. "That was too close," he whispered, his hooded eyes worried.

I pulled away from his touch. "It's been a long day. Can you walk me to the infirmary?"

Disappointed, he offered me his arm and we both limped to the elevator. Bobby was the world's biggest sweetheart, but he was definitely more like a dorky brother to me than my knight in shining armor, and the last thing I needed to encourage was a puppy dog crush. My life was complicated enough.

He pushed the button and we both leaned against the back wall, our shoulders touching. He rolled his head to face me. "The Prof said Betsy took off, too?"

"Also my fault." I leaned my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes.

He rested his head on top of my hair and I felt his face smile. "You had a very busy day."


	11. Chapter 11

All characters owned by Marvel Comics

Author's notes: Thanks everybody for the feedback on the last chapter. Sometimes it's hard for me to let things go and just post them, so glad y'all liked it. The interlude for this chapter would have taken place just prior to X-Factor #71 (vol. 1). No Remy this time, I know, I'm such a jerk, but someone else near and dear gets a mention. Thanks again for reading!

* * *

 **Interlude: A Fresh Start**

 _Two years before…_

 _"You can flash those credentials all you want, Val, they don't impress me." Alex Summers didn't stop walking, and chuckled to himself as Valerie Cooper, the United States government's liaison to mutants, struggled to keep up. He was usually more the gallant, door opening type, but Val, a control freak used to giving orders, was fun to annoy._

 _Her pace nearly spilling her over onto the ground, Val maneuvered in front of him and halted him with raised hands. "This is a tremendous opportunity we're offering here, Alex. With this new team, you have the chance to work towards mutant civil rights without being directly beholden to Charles Xavier."_

 _Scowling, Alex crossed his arms over his chest. "What makes you think I have a problem working directly for Charles Xavier?"_

 _"She doesn't, Alex," The crunch of gravel drew their attention, and both swiveled their gaze to a just landing Carol. "Making educated guesses is just what Val does. It's why they pay her the big bucks." Carol stepped towards Alex and inclined her head. "Hello again, Val. Welcome to progress."_

 _Val smiled a tight smile and nodded in return. "Major Danvers. Congratulations, by the way. What you two have accomplished in Genosha is truly impressive, but I'm offering the opportunity to achieve so much more…"_

 _Holding up one hand, Carol grabbed Alex's arm with the other. "Can you excuse us for a moment, Val? There's something that requires Mr. Summers' attention." Carol hauled Alex away from the hurricane force that was Valerie Cooper._

 _"Thank you," he muttered. "I wasn't sure how I was gonna say no to her."_

 _When they were out of earshot, Carol stopped her steps and turned to face him. "I'm not so sure you should," she said quietly._

 _Alex's mouth popped open. "Excuse me?"_

 _Carol touched his shoulder. "You heard me. Val came to me first, and I think what she's offering could be really great. You've put your heart and soul into rebuilding this country, but there comes a time when its citizens need to stand on their own two feet." Alex sighed and ran a hand across his jaw. "You need to stop placing this all on your shoulders. You're still blaming yourself for what happened. You're suffocating here…"_

 _He reached out and brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. "Is this what you want?" he whispered._

 _She grasped his hand in hers. "I don't know," she said softly, "but it's what you need, and that's good enough for me. Good enough for us."_

 _He pulled her into his chest and rested his cheek against her hair. "All right. Val wins." He held her out and kissed her lips gently. "She'll be ecstatic," he murmured._

 _"Val doesn't win. We win. It's time for a change. It'll be good for us, a fresh start."_

 _"Yeah, yeah…for better or worse, right?"_

* * *

 **Chapter Eleven**

Jean slipped the brass key into the lock and turned the knob. "The rooms on this floor all have their own bathrooms," she said pleasantly and pushed open the heavy oak door. "Not like the old days, right? I still have nightmares about fishing Hank's hair out of the bathtub." Her Shi'ar exoskeleton gave her smoother steps than mine, and she padded into the open bedroom. I leaned against the doorjamb to catch my breath and took a slow look around at my new digs. The walls were painted cream and the gauzy drapes that matched covered two large windows, the sunlight filtering pleasantly through and bathing the queen-sized bed in the warmth of the afternoon. I sunk my toes into the light, plush carpet, but refused to step forward.

"Bathroom's in here, tub and a shower," Jean opened another door and flipped on the light inside, then moved to open the closet, but I just stood frozen, my hand gripping the wooden doorframe. A cold, nagging feeling was crawling into my chest, but I couldn't bring myself to ask her the question I wanted to. "Not quite a walk-in, but…" Jean turned when she realized I hadn't answered her in a while, her mouth parted mid-sentence. "Rogue?" She stepped back to me, her delicate red eyebrows furrowed above grass-green eyes. "Are you all right? Was the walk up here too much? Do you need to sit down?" I shook my head, my mouth too dry for words. "What is it? What's wrong?" Her hand hovered above mine, and that look played out on her features, the look that I got from everybody, that look of whether they could touch me or not, if whether they should touch me, if it was safe. The look of fear that everybody gave me, the three feet of personal space that turned to more when they knew what I could do. Everybody except Gambit, who I couldn't seem to keep three feet away even when I tried, and believe me, since our last conversation, I had been trying.

I cleared my throat. "Was this her room?" I managed, my voice rough and ragged.

Jean's face became sympathetic understanding, and her long white fingers closed around mine. "No, Rogue. We have plenty of space, and to me, putting you in her old room seemed unnecessary. You already shared enough, right?" Jean understood, I kept telling myself. The life she should have had was shattered by Madelyne Pryor and the Phoenix, and she was still picking up the pieces and trying to glue them back together. I let her take my gloved hand and she led me to the edge of the bed and plopped me down.

"On that note, however, there are a few things we should go through. Literally." I looked up at her and she crouched in front of me. "Carol's room. We've boxed up most of her personal belongings and I know it's weird, but there's an entire closet worth of clothing that's exactly your size. We were going to donate it, the rest of her effects are going to her next of kin, but I thought maybe you'd like to at least take a look at the clothes, see if there was anything you might want…" I scowled and she squeezed my knee. "Just until you have a chance to go shopping yourself. I assume your taste in clothing isn't the same, but it has to be better than scrub pants and t-shirts." Carol's hand-me-downs. But I didn't really have a right to be choosy, did I? Professor Xavier was giving me a free place to live, free food and medical care, he didn't need to foot the bill for a whole new wardrobe, not when there were perfectly good clothes that were just my size. Next of kin? My research had told me the real Carol, as Binary, was still somewhere in deep space playing pirate, but her parents were still alive and kicking in Boston. Wonder if they ever met the Carol that was in me?

"Yeah, I suppose I could take a look," I mumbled.

Jean stood and rolled up her sleeves. "Good. I'll start grabbing boxes."

I got up, too. "I'll help."

She held up a hand. "No, that's okay. I think most people are out, either on a mission or doing personal things, but I think I can find somebody to help me. If not, I'll grab my chair and make short work of it with my telekinesis instead." She waved airily and walked out the door. My door. I trailed my fingers along the stitching on the downy comforter draped over the bed. My eyes turned to the windows and I shuffled over and threw open the curtains and hauled up the sashes. I was so sick of the recycled air conditioned air of the lower levels, so unbelievably happy to be out of the infirmary. I took as deep of breath as I could muster and closed my eyes.

"Hope you like khakis." A grunting Jubilee dropped a cardboard box half her size into the middle of the floor. "Yuck." She wrinkled her nose and lifted a pale blue button down shirt from inside the box. "It's like Martha Stewart barfed in here."

Jean came in behind her, and sat her box down next to the first. "Jubilee, let's get another load and let Rogue take a look." The young girl rolled her eyes and Jean peeped down into the boxes. She looked up sheepishly. "Don't feel like you _have_ to keep things, Rogue. If you really don't like them, we'll donate them."

"Is it that bad?" I teased.

The boxes kept coming and I started sorting, my big pile of 'no way' having to move to the floor by the time Jean and Jubilee were done bringing it all in.

"Lordy," I smiled at the girls as they entered, Jean hugging a small box crisscrossed with the remnants of ripped packing tape. "I thought y'all were joking! How many pairs of sensible slacks can one person own?"

Jubilee flopped onto the bed and shouldered into a leather bomber jacket I had definitely decided to keep. It swallowed her tiny frame, but she popped the collar and dropped her signature shades onto her nose. "Told ya'."

Jean laid her last box on the end of the bed. "Jubilee, why don't you start boxing up the donation pile?" The girl saluted and hopped off the bed, diving into the pile of taupe and tan.

I had kept some things, t-shirts and blue jeans, boots, workout clothes, the things that were closer to my typical style, but anything that had screamed Cape Cod was going straight to Goodwill. It was a strange task, going through clothes that had graced my body while I wasn't using it. I didn't want to make light of the fact that Carol was dead, but there were practical concerns. Did I keep underwear? Socks? It was weird, these things were my body's, but they weren't mine. I had enough clothing for a decent start of a wardrobe, at any rate, but it would be nice to go shopping and get a few things of my own as soon as I got clearance from McCoy. I didn't want to think of Carol Danvers every time I got dressed, not any more than I already did. I knew Jean was keeping me out of Carol's old room on purpose, I just wasn't sure why. Yet. I hadn't pushed to look at my former head-mate's personal belongings, but maybe it was time I did. The things she had left behind would maybe fill in some of the remaining gaps in my timeline.

"Rogue," Jean drew my attention to the box she was still holding. "We found this in the back of her closet…" She set it on the bed and lifted the flap, and I couldn't help but gasp. ROGUE, upside down from my vantage point, was scrawled across the box top in big black letters. "I know they went back to Australia to gather what they could of everyone's belongings." I stepped hesitantly towards her. My former life, its meaning and worth distilled down to the contents of one small box. "We'll give you a few minutes." Jean touched my shoulder, then grabbed Jubilee on her way out the door.

"But," the teenager sputtered, "I want to see what's in the box!"

I did, too, but my hands trembled as I opened up the flaps. I stared down, my eyes blurring behind tears. This was all I was, all that was left of the me before…The first thing I pulled out was a bent photograph of me and my foster mothers from before the Brotherhood, from that brief time when things had been good, when we had been a real family. I had to sit on the edge of the bed, suddenly short of breath, sobs crushing my aching chest. My mothers were smiling, and I was a scrawny flat-chested eleven year old. I knew even then what they were to each other, and I knew why they had felt the need to hide it in small town Mississippi, though I wished they hadn't. Our house practically originated 'don't ask, don't tell', but I wasn't blind, Raven had a separate bedroom she never slept in for God's sake. I wished the world had been kinder to them and their love, maybe things would have turned out so much different if it had been. Irene, murdered by Legion, Raven who knew where. I had asked to find her, but after what I had learned, I wasn't sure if that was such a good idea anymore. My mother had stabbed me through the chest, left me to die. Granted, it wasn't me, but what had happened to Mystique that she could see my body as little more than a shell that needed to be eliminated?

Bending over, I yanked open a drawer in the nightstand and laid the photo inside. I scrubbed the tears from my eyes with the heels of my palms and inhaled sharply. I was never gonna get through this if I bawled like a baby over every scrap in that box. Rummaging through it, I pulled out my last costume, a black bodysuit with a green strapless swimsuit-style leotard worn over the top, opera gloves and thigh high boots to match. I got up and held it in front of me, gazing in the mirror. It felt to me like it had only been a couple of months since I had last worn it, but the truth was still too painful to comprehend. I had always felt so beautiful in that costume, so strong. It had been my favorite, the high-flying, brash Rogue, but I wasn't that girl anymore. Trouble was, I didn't know who I was, or who I wanted to be.

Disgusted, I threw the costume in the donation pile. The powers I had stolen from Carol still hadn't resurfaced and more than likely never would, the death of her mind had erased any traces she had ever been in mine. As for my own powers, I hadn't tried to use them yet despite pressure from the Professor and Hank, and didn't really want to. When I healed, did I still even want to be an X-Man? Were my own powers, the ability to steal someone else's, enough to make me valuable to the team, to make me a hero?

Back in the box, buried in the bottom, my fingers closed on a sheaf of papers. I pulled them free and my heart throbbed a rapid fire drumbeat inside my chest. I flipped through them frantically. Admission papers, doctor's reports, outdated receipts of payment, all from a convalescent home in Caldecott County, Mississippi. Oh, Jesus H. Christ, how could I have forgotten about him? I was such a selfish bitch…what had happened to him with me gone? How had I not even checked to make sure he was okay? I didn't fight the tears this time and dissolved into a sobbing heap on the thick carpet.

"Oh, _Cody_ …" 


	12. Chapter 12

All characters owned by Marvel Comics

Author's notes: Kind of a sad chapter this week, but one of my favorites in the story. Lots of angst and a surprise visitor...so enjoy! Thanks again for reading!

The interlude would take place just after Uncanny X-Men #280 and the battle on Muir Island.

* * *

 **Interlude: What Doesn't Kill Me**

 _Two years, six months before…_

 _She hefted the armload of steel I-Beams, easily several tons worth, onto one shoulder and looked skyward. Rebuilding had been a slow process for the tiny African nation of Genosha, the pains of revolution still scarred on every street of the island. Sighting her target, the eighty-first floor, its glittering metallic ribs still a work in progress, she rose into the air. She felt uneasy using her superpowers as a short cut to ease the burdens of citizens who had originally built their society on the backs of mutant slaves, but when she had signed up to help with the recovery effort following the X-Men's pitched battle against the nation's government, she had been determined to look at it as using her powers for the greater good, as an example of what free mutants could achieve. Even if her powers weren't technically mutant powers, her superstrength, flight, and invulnerability were Kree derived, the body she and they now resided in was that of a mutant. What hurt mutants hurt her, and if she could work to change that, so much the better._

 _"That seems like showing off."_

 _Depositing the load, she turned to the familiar voice and smiled broadly. "This?" She frowned and gestured to the stack of beams. "This is hard work, something I'm sure you know nothing about." Alex Summers tipped his hardhat back and wiped away the beads of sweat that had formed on his forehead. The heat of the day had turned the half-built structure into an oven that rivaled even the Australian Outback town that had up until recently been their home. "Now, this," Carol's frown turned into a grin, and she picked up one of the beams single-handed. "This is showing off." She twisted the reinforced metal into the shape of a pretzel, much to an applauding Alex's delight. "Any questions?"_

 _He continued to chuckle while he gathered up a pile of blueprints from a nearby table. "Lesson learned, sweetheart. Can I catch a lift?" The pair walked to the opening and the hazy swath of blue sky visible through the building's skeleton._

 _"Sure thing, blondie," Carol offered her elbow, but Alex snuggled closer and wrapped an arm around her waist, eliciting a snort and an eye roll from his companion._

 _"What?" he shrugged innocently. "It's a long way down." She was tempted to tear out of the building at full speed, to really give Alex something to be scared of, but she controlled herself with a slow float to the ground. Lingering wounds of battle were slowly disappearing across the landscape, and the futuristic high rises of the once prosperous country were reaching further into the sky each day. "There's still so much to be done," Alex whispered, the folded blueprints shielding his eyes from the midday sun. His face was a grim mask, and Carol had come to recognize the look._

 _"Alex, this wasn't your fault." She deposited him gently onto the gravel amongst the grind and dirt of dump trucks and cement mixers hard at work. He turned his face to watch the army of construction equipment in motion._

 _"My power leveled their government. The X-Men ground their country to dust."_

 _She laid a hand on his shoulder. "The government built their country on the sweat and blood of slaves, Alex. They attacked us, tortured us, murdered us. The revolution that happened here? We call that a necessary evil where I come from."_

 _The roar of an engine interrupted their conversation, a sleek and shining aircraft making a smooth vertical landing nearby. Carol and Alex shared confused looks before they hurried forward to greet the familiar faces already descending from the Blackbird's open ramp._

 _Raising his hand, Alex waved enthusiastically. "Scott! Jeannie! What brings you guys here? Checking up on me?"_

 _An uneasy feeling crept up Carol's spine and she held back. She didn't know Scott Summers or Jean Grey very well, had only met them briefly on the battlefield, but to Alex they were family. Still, their unannounced arrival set off her alarm bells._

 _"Hello, Alex." The X-Men's original squad leader held out a hand to his little brother. On his best days, Cyclops was a grave and serious man, but even Carol could see how haggard and worn he looked._

 _"Scottie…" Alex clasped his brother's hand between his. "You look like hell. What…?"_

 _Scott laid his other hand on Alex's shoulder. "Is there somewhere we can talk?"_

 _Alex spared a worried glance towards Carol. "Sure thing. I've got a trailer I've been using as an office." He directed Scott forward. Carol moved to follow, but Jean Grey stopped her._

 _"Give them a moment."_

 _A moment became all day. Carol continued to work, visiting other building sites, putting out the proverbial fires that seemed inevitably to accompany every large scale reconstruction project. Like most days, quitting time was well after dark, the clock reading nearly midnight, but when Carol flew over the office trailer Alex had been living in, the light's blazed bare through the normally curtain draped windows. Worried, she landed, noting that the Blackbird was no longer parked nearby before she opened the trailer's screen and knocked softly on the inner door._

 _"Alex? Are you still up?" She knocked again. "Alex?" No answer, but she pushed open the door anyway, and her heart lurched into her throat at the sight that greeted her. The room, the office portion of Alex's makeshift living quarters, was an absolute shambles. Tables and chairs had been overturned, lamp shades broken and flipped, the coffee pot dashed against one wall, the edges of the fallen curtains scorched and burned, blueprints ripped to shreds. "Alex!" She began a frantic search of the small space._

 _"Yeah…" His muffled voice came from behind the closed door of the bedroom and she forced it open. Alex was sitting on the floor in the dimly lit room, leaning his back against the sheet tangled bed, his long legs sprawled in front of him, the room in the same state of disrepair as the rest of the trailer._

 _Carol stepped over the shattered remains of an empty bottle of Jack Daniels and entered. "Alex, what…?"_

 _Alex Summers raised red-rimmed eyes, his beautiful face awash in a grief that bottomed out Carol's stomach. She crouched next to him, and he lowered those eyes to stare at the nearly empty glass of whisky perched in his lap. He laughed, the sound bitter and cold, and when he spoke, his voice was a hoarse whisper. "I know…" He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his tousled blonde hair. " I know that…given what we do, the life we've chosen…I know that a happy ending was impossible…but…to go to bed with my arms wrapped around the woman I loved…was that really too much to ask?" She reached for his drink and he leaned his head back against the bed. "We were free and clear….we were making it work…and then that stupid ship landed in New Mexico…and I left her…I left her alone…"_

 _She pried his fingers from the glass and set it on the floor next to him. "Alex, sweetheart, what's wrong? What happened?"_

 _He exhaled in a shudder that shook his whole body, but wouldn't meet her eyes. "Lorna's dead."_

 _Lorna Dane. Alex's longtime sweetie, though events of the last few years had torn and kept them far apart from each other. Last Carol had known, the girl had been en route from the Savage Land, just before the X-Men had gone through the Siege Perilous to escape the Reavers. After that, her whereabouts got a little fuzzy._

 _A slim, white hand fluttered to Carol's throat. "Oh, my god, I'm so sorry, Alex." She grasped one of his hands in hers. "What happened?"_

 _Yanking his hand free, his burning eyes snapped open. "Your friend Wolverine happened. He murdered her on Muir Island."_

 _A numbness crept into Carol's bones. Logan had been her friend and partner, and she knew him as a man who could be very cut and dried when it came to protecting those he loved. Lorna was one of the X-Men, one of his family. They had heard rumors, but no details, of a pitched battle involving the X-Men on Moira MacTaggert's mutant research facility, Muir Island. Logan murdered Lorna? She found it hard to believe it was as simple as all that. "Murdered?" The word left a bad taste in her mouth._

 _"Murdered!" He bellowed in her face, his voice breaking on the last syllable. "Scott said that animal tore her apart with his claws like she was nothing…!"_

 _Carol set her jaw and glared at him. "I know you're hurting right now. I can't even imagine what you're feeling. But I won't sit here and be screamed at." She made to stand, but Alex gripped her arm desperately and she let him pull her down again._

 _"I'm sorry…" his face, blue eyes an ocean of pain, was a breath away from hers. "Stay, please…I…I don't want to be alone…please…I don't want to feel this…"_

 _Making a choice, she wrapped her arms around him._

* * *

 **Chapter Twelve**

The red dirt and Kudzu that covered the Mississippi countryside in a thick blanket flashed by my window, landmarks becoming more familiar with every passing mile marker. I tore my eyes away from the blur of green vines, moving my gaze to the graceful gloved fingers drumming a jazz beat on the rental car's steering wheel.

"Thank you, by the way," I said, breaking a surprisingly companionable silence.

"For what, chere?" He didn't turn his face to me, so I let my eyes linger on his profile and the slight curl of his full lips, on the jawline darkened with days of stubble.

"For comin' with me. I know it's not exactly a vacation for you." His red on black eyes finally found mine. After a series of frantic phone calls and heated arguments, I had managed to convince Hank and the Professor that I needed to get to Mississippi ASAP, in person, to handle this business. They had grudgingly agreed, but only after some severe stipulations were agreed upon, to ensure my well-being the Professor had said, first and foremost being my Cajun chaperone. I hadn't wanted anyone to come with me, it was private and I knew seeing Cody again after all this time was gonna wreck me, but I still couldn't drive and was in no shape to take the Greyhound. The flight from New York to Jackson had been hard enough on my bum leg, double that time in a bus could have caused some serious damage. Gambit was about the last person on my short list, we hadn't spoken since our little rooftop chat, but he hailed from the general area I was headed and knew his way around, and most importantly, he was available. Nearly everybody else had been on a mission or otherwise occupied, Bobby and the Gold team had gone to Dallas to fetch the inventor Forge. Illyana's prognosis had become desperate enough the brains were calling in reinforcements. Logan, my first choice, was in as bad of shape as I was, and I couldn't wait for him or anybody else. I needed to find out what had happened to Cody while I was incapacitated, and my phone calls had been unproductive to say the least.

He smiled that devil smile of his. "I'll find some way for you to repay me."

I rolled my eyes and leaned my head against the cool glass of the window, trying my hardest not to fall into the chasm of anxiety and grief that was threatening to swallow me whole. I hadn't been here for so long it was shameful. Before the X-Men moved to Australia, I had made it a point to visit once a year, more if I could, and had regularly corresponded with Cody's doctors and nurses regarding his condition. My phone calls in the last few days had confirmed he was still in the same facility, but those I spoke to seemed confused by my request for information concerning who was still funding his care. It hadn't been Carol judging by how old the invoices in my box were, or the Professor, but a surprised Xavier was quick to offer his financial or telepathic assistance if I needed it, but that wasn't necessary. I knew, sadly, that Cody's soul was long gone. I had stolen it from him, absorbed his memories until there was nothing left for anyone to find. I had set up a trust fund for the care of Cody Robbins, my childhood sweetheart, my first victim, and all the misbegotten money gained from my crime-ridden early career had gone to his good cause.

"So, you're from around here?" Gambit's smoky voice interrupted my pity party.

"Yeah, grew up pretty close to the river, actually."

"So, we were already neighbors," he winked at me, and I couldn't help but laugh at the cheeseball grin on his face.

"Neighbors? Ain't New Orleans, like, five hours away?"

"Like I said, neighbors."

I shook my head and pulled out the updated Mississippi road map I had liberated from our last rest stop. I could find the hospital in my sleep from the air, but it had been a long time since I had taken more pedestrian routes to get there. "Well, neighbor," I kidded, "keep your eyes on the road so you don't miss our exit."

He pulled the black sedan smoothly down the winding oak covered driveway and into the parking lot of The Van Winkle Convalescence Home, a stately old brick plantation mansion that had been renovated into a long term care facility after World War I. The sprawling lawns were dotted with wrought iron park benches, some currently occupied by robe-wearing residents and their accompanying nurses. I exhaled in a shudder. I hated this place. It was the best money could buy in the state of Mississippi, situated near what was left of Cody's family, but it carved out my heart to know that he never felt the grass under his feet, the sun on his face, never even saw the beauty that surrounded him every day, and never would, thanks to me.

"Hey," Gambit leaned over and lifted my chin to face him, invading my space like always, and I had to bite my lip to blink back a fresh spill of tears. "You sure you want to do this, chere?"

I couldn't answer him for a few heartbeats, doing my best to will the waterworks away. "I have to do this, but you don't have to come with me. If you don't want to, I mean."

He brushed a renegade drop from my cheek. "I think I better," he said sternly, but with a sweet smile playing at those lips. "Doctor's orders. I promised Henri I'd keep a close eye on you." He slid on a pair of sunglasses to cover his exotic eyes and came around to open my door while I tried to calm my fluttering heart, my hitching breath. It wouldn't do anybody any good if I hyperventilated, I needed to be strong. Gambit offered his arm and helped me hobble up the stairs of the column wrapped porch, then opened the doors for me. Stepping inside was a trip back in time in more ways than one as little had changed since my last visit. The wooden floor even creaked the same. I dropped Gambit's arm and stepped up to the nurse's station.

"What can I do for you?" The blonde nurse was barely older than me, and her eye makeup perfectly matched her violet glasses.

"I'm here to see Dr. Bowers. I have an appointment concerning Cody Robbins."

She typed hurried clicks into her computer's keyboard. "Your name?" she smiled expectantly, but my insides froze. My name. Such a simple little thing, yet so painfully complicated. I felt like the girl attached to that name had died a long time ago, and a mutant named Rogue had taken her place, but Uncle Sam and the healthcare system didn't seem to agree with me. My legal name was plastered all over Cody's power of attorney and HIPPA paperwork. His own family had never had the financial means to care for him, not like he needed, and when I had discreetly taken over the reins shortly after my eighteenth birthday it had been extremely necessary. The facility he had been languishing in originally had been despicable, and I just hadn't been able to let that stand. He was mine to take care of, my responsibility, and had been for a long time. Yet, somehow, even without me, the bills were still getting paid, and from what I had been able to figure out, it hadn't been by Carol. That Yankee Witch had shoved what was left of me and my life into that box and probably hadn't even looked at it. Needless to say, I wanted answers.

"Anna Raven," I answered, sure that Gambit had heard me.

"Okay, Miss Raven. Give me a moment, and I'll let the Doctor know that you're here." She picked up her receiver and I stayed leaning on her counter, trying to ignore the heated stare Gambit was giving my backside. "The Doctor will be up in just a moment." She went about other business and I turned to face Gambit, halfway wishing at that moment he had stepped outside to grab a smoke, but also strangely happy to have him with me.

He reached out and rubbed my covered upper arms. "You okay, chere?" I could only nod in response, shivering under his gloved touch. "Was that for real, or was it made up?" he asked quietly, but I shot him a confused look. "Your name." His lips tugged up in that smile again.

"Last name is, first name is all mine." He grinned like the cat that had swallowed the canary. Here wasn't the place, but we were gonna have to have a little chat later about my privacy. Jesus H. Christ, after all these years, it had to have been him?

"Anna…" he smiled that devil smile when he said it. "I like it." So much for secrets…before I could even scold him, the man I remembered as Dr. Bowers, a little greyer, a little more around the middle, came around the corner.

"Hello, Miss Raven." He smiled warmly under his salt and pepper moustache and reached out a careful hand to shake mine. Most normal folks didn't know I was a mutant, but they knew something was off about me. Covering yourself neck to toe in the heat of Mississippi sent up a lot of red flags, but I usually played it off like I had a skin condition. "Back so soon?" he gestured towards his office.

Maybe I hadn't heard him right. "Excuse me?" He opened the large paneled door and held it for me and Gambit. We took a seat on the leather sofa laid perpendicular to the massive antique desk that took up a good chunk of the office's space. The walls were lined with row after row of leather bound books and the windows looked out over the endless expanse of green that was the facility's back lawn.

Dr. Bowers leaned against the front edge of his desk, and put his hands in the pockets of his white lab coat. "Not that I mind, don't misunderstand me, I'm just so accustomed to your yearly visits that I wasn't expecting you. It's only been…what? Three months?"

A cold numbness crept down my back and I felt like I was falling inside. "Three months?" I whispered, trying to keep my panicked face impassive. What the hell was going on here?

"I think that's right, isn't it? I'm sure my nurse, Lindsay, remembers the exact date. That's why I was so confused when you called concerning your friend's care. I thought we had gone over everything thoroughly during your last visit. If you had any further questions, there was no need for you to come all the way down here…"

I laid my gloved hands flat against the sofa to stop them from shaking. Three months ago, Carol had been dead and I had been in intensive care. Didn't take a genius to figure out who had been here, wearing my face. I flailed for a non-mutant excuse for how bizarre I was starting to seem. "I just thought…"

Gambit squeezed my hand and spoke over me. "What my fiancée is too polite to say, Doctor, is that coming here was _my_ idea." The accent coming out of his mouth was about as fake a Kentucky accent as I had ever heard, and I squeezed his hand back in warning, hard, plastering an equally fake smile on my face. "We were in the area, visiting family and friends," Gambit continued, "so I thought it was high time she introduced me to Mr. Robbins." Dr. Bowers regarded us thoughtfully and Gambit stood to shake his hand. "Mark Wright," he said and pumped Dr. Bowers' hand like a good ol' boy. "It was rude of me not to introduce myself, but I just wanted to make sure _Anna_ was comfortable, didn't want to step on the little lady's toes."

"Well, congratulations Mr. Wright, Miss Raven. As you probably know, the account that provides for Mr. Robbins' care is well-funded, we've never had any issues receiving payment since you transferred him here, and everything is quite in order financially. There really is no need for concern. I suppose though, you are anxious to see your friend?" The doctor opened the door and Gambit offered his hand to help me stand, winking at me over the top of his sunglasses.

I kept the fake smile painted on, but hissed at him out of the corner of my mouth. "You are a dead man, _Mark_."

Chuckling inappropriately to nobody but himself, he walked us behind Dr. Bowers through the softly lit hallways. My feet grew heavier and heavier, the guilt pressing on me so hard I was having trouble snagging a deep breath. Dr. Bowers chatted quietly about building remodels and upcoming equipment updates, but Gambit eyed me worriedly and slipped an arm around my waist to prop me up. Normally, I would have screamed at him about my powers, but at that moment I felt a funny, detached feeling, like I was on the verge of fainting, and his warm arm grounded me.

"Well," Dr. Bowers said pleasantly, "here we are." Cody had the large, airy room to himself, and one wall was all windows that opened onto the back lawn of the estate. My eyes circled the room, but I forced them to the hospital bed and its silent occupant. Dr. Bowers walked to the end of the bed and removed the clipboard chart, flipping pages, and Gambit ushered us both forward.

"Unfortunately, as you would expect, there has been no change in Mr. Robbins's condition in a number of years. We do what we can to keep his body comfortable, to keep his muscles limber, but he is functionally brain dead."

I was only vaguely aware of the Doctor's words as I came to stand next to the bed, staring at the wasted body beneath the thin sheets. Cody. I had watched with a steadily building horror while the years had changed his silent body from a teenager to a young man, but the years since I had seen him had taken him all the way to a faded shadow of manhood. His complexion was waxy, pale, his shaggy blonde hair, once the color of ripe wheat, was in desperate need of a haircut and matched the faint dusting of stubble that decorated his square jaw. He could have been a quarterback, the homecoming king. His smile and those sparkling blue eyes were long gone, but they would have broken a thousand hearts if he hadn't broken mine first.

Dr. Bowers replaced the chart. "Have you given any more thought to the end of life measures we discussed during your last visit?"

"End of life measures?" My mouth formed the foul tasting words.

"His organs are still viable, he could save many lives with his donation…" I couldn't hide the anguish that ripped across my face, and the good doctor was taken aback.

"Can you give us a moment?" Gambit politely pushed the bewildered Doc from the room and I heard the soft click of the shutting door before I felt him stand behind me. "Rogue?" He placed his hand on my upper arms, but I stiffened.

"Do you get it now?" I whispered hoarsely. "Do you understand? This is why I have to be alone. This is what I do. I'm a monster, a murderer. We kissed, once. Once! We were just kids, best friends, and he kissed me, and I swallowed him whole…" My voice broke. "I killed him as surely as if I'd put a bullet in his head, just like I killed Carol." I shrugged his hands away. "Do you want that to be you lyin' there?" I buried my face in my hands, but I felt him reach for me again. "Don't…" I choked out, but his strong hands spun me and he forced me into his chest. He maneuvered us to the small couch where I sobbed against him for all my broken heart was worth.

When I had no more tears left, I pushed myself away from his soaked shirtfront. "I'm sorry," I tried to dab my puddle with a tissue, but he grabbed my hand in one of his and held my cheek with the other, wiping the trail of tears with his thumb.

"Remy, can I…can I have a few minutes alone with him?"

He brought my hand to his lips and kissed it, his eyes locked with mine. "I'll go get us some coffee, chere." He rose and kissed the top of my head on his way out, leaving just me and Cody in the room.

I was overwhelmed. Coming here had always torn me into tiny pieces, but today was proving to be extra special. End of life measures. My knife-wielding, shape-shifting foster mother had come here, pretending to be me, and talked about putting Cody down like a rabid dog.

Cody. I stood by the side of his bed and took his hand in mine. His hands had always been beautiful, strong but elegant, the hands of an artist or a musician. His momma had made him take piano lessons as a kid, before his daddy had lost his job at the plant and times had gotten tight. They were long since divorced, and last I knew neither visited, couldn't take seeing their son like this, but I had kept him close to home just in case they ever changed their minds.

"Hi, sugar," I whispered and brushed away the sweep of blonde hair that had fallen across his forehead. "It's been a while. It might not seem like it to you, but, let me tell you, it's been a lousy few years…" When he had been a rough and tumble thirteen year old, he had been my best friend and confidant. I had always told Cody everything and truthfully had never stopped. It all spilled out, my lost four years and all the time leading up to it. I realized I hadn't been here since the X-Men had 'died' in Dallas while helping Forge battle the Adversary.

Shameful, but more shameful when I realized that maybe my foster mother and Dr. Bowers had a point with their end of life talk. The more I rambled, the more I ran away from the idea, but the louder it grew. Were they right? Was it time to let him go? Cody wasn't alive anymore, his body was just a shell. Was I holding on, keeping him from finally having peace, out of love, out of guilt, out of obligation? If he was here, he was still alive, I kept trying to tell myself, he had a chance, but I knew that wasn't the case. He hadn't opened his eyes since he had closed them to lean in and kiss me all those years ago. What kind of life was he leading so I could ease my conscience?

I couldn't even consider it right now, didn't want to make any decisions without consulting the Professor and Hank, probably should have brought them here in the first place, but they had been so busy with Illyana, and I was so ashamed of what my powers had done to the man before me. Maybe it was time to ask for their help. Maybe they could find Cody, like they had found me, or figure out a way to finally send him home.

"Gambit'll be back soon, sugar, so I'll say my goodbyes now." I leaned the bare skin of my forehead against his, felt no pull of my powers because there was nothing left to pull from him. "I'm so sorry, Cody. You were the best thing that ever happened to me."

The door opened and Gambit closed it with his backside, two Styrofoam cups of coffee held aloft. "Bless you, sugar," I smiled, slightly embarrassed by the way I had come apart in his arms before. I had to admit, I was happy he was here. I held out a hand to take a cup from him, but he placed both of them on the couch's side table and stood away from me at the end of the bed. Frowning, I grabbed my own coffee and blew lightly on the steaming black surface. He had forgotten the cream, dammit.

"You okay, Rogue?" he asked, tucking his gloved hands into the front pockets of his broken in blue jeans. I nodded and took a tentative swallow. "Nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live here," he quipped.

I glared at him. "I don't think anybody _wants_ to live here, Gambit," I replied, my voice hollow.

He pulled Cody's medical chart from the end of the bed and started absently turning pages. "What you think of what Dr. Bowers said? 'Bout puttin' the boy to sleep?" It was an uncharacteristically cruel remark, but I let it pass, figuring I was probably a bit sensitive to such things at the moment.

I chose my next words carefully. "I think I'd like the Professor and Hank to take a look, maybe Jean, get them to evaluate Cody's condition before we take anything to his family, before any decision is made."

His lip curled at my mentioning the Professor's name. "Right. Cause they did such a good job evaluatin' your condition…"

What the hell? I stopped myself from jumping across the bed and slapping that smirk off his face, but I huffed and held out my hand. "Give me that," I demanded, gesturing to the chart. He held it out by one end and I snatched it by the other, stepping around the bed to hang it back where it belonged. "This," I pointed to the clipboard, "is none o' your business." I turned around to unload on him, but was surprised to find he had backed away from me when I had come closer to him. He now stood at a polite three feet. Something raised the hackles on my neck, so I took another step towards him. He backed up, and he gave me the look, that damned look everybody that knew about my powers gave me when I moved near them, intentionally or not, like a scared rabbit marking a predator's moves. Trouble was, since I had met him, Gambit had _never_ given me that look. I kept stepping forward and backed him into a corner. Leveling my eyes, I dropped my voice to a barely contained snarl that would have done Wolverine proud. "Where's Gambit, Raven?"

Gambit smiled, his features melting in a blue wash that reformed into the face of my foster mother, Mystique. "Hello, sweetheart."

"Sweetheart?" I bared my teeth at the woman who had raised me, who had told me she loved me, had read me bedtime stories and bandaged my skinned knees, then had stabbed me through the heart and left me for dead. "What did you do with Gambit?"

"Your…friend…is fine, Rogue. I just wanted to see you alone." Her face softened. "You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice again."

"That's kind of hard to believe, considering what you did to me."

She raised a hand towards me, her voice a wavering murmur. "After all this time, I should know better than to doubt Irene…" She stopped her reach midair, her hand frozen between us. "Rogue, you have to believe me when I say that I was only thinking of you. I was the only one thinking of you…"

I snorted. "Be _lieve_ you? Now why would I go and do a crazy thing like that?"

Her face hardened. "Because I am the only one willing to tell you the truth! Xavier, Wolverine, even this Gambit, they've given you nothing but lies! They let that bitch Danvers railroad over your personality while she used your body as her private playground, then they refuse to tell you what she did with it while you were incapacitated! Why are they still protecting her? Haven't you stopped to wonder what else it is they're keeping from you? _Who_ else they're keeping from you!?"

Anger boiled just under my skin. My skin, the only weapon I had left. She opened her mouth again, but I couldn't stand to hear any of her lies or excuses. The truth was the truth only when it was convenient to my mother, her shams were the worst, the ugliest, using grains of fact to seed deception, to sow doubts against those I trusted the most. There was only one way she couldn't play me for false. I slipped off a glove, and quicker than lightning, slapped out a hand against her surprised face. She tried to jump back, but my bare flesh connected with hers, and her eyes popped wide in shock. After a few seconds of nothing, mine did, too. No pull, no draining of her life. What the hell?

"Rogue…" She reached up to grasp my hand, but I gritted my teeth and dug deep, pulled on purpose, and she choked, her mind sliding up my skin before she collapsed onto the cold floor. I had to steady myself on the rail of Cody's hospital bed, her sick, twisted thoughts tying my stomach into nauseated knots. Taking labored, shallow breaths, I sifted my way through the tangled darkness of my mother's memories in search of answers.

The door to Cody's room flew open, and a disheveled Gambit, all hellfire and brimstone with a hand full of charged cards blazin', stood in the doorway. His bruised and battered face surveyed the room and he put away his weapons, ignoring the slumped form of my mother, charging for me instead, wrapping his arms around me, invading my space like he always did.

"Anna, chere…" I leaned against him, too grateful to cuss him out for using my given name.

"Get me out of her, Remy," I whispered.


	13. Chapter 13

All characters owned by Marvel Comics

Author's note: So, phew! Last chapter was a little dramatic for our girl and this chapter is no different! Rogue will certainly get something out of her absorption of Mystique, but maybe not what she was expecting...

Mcgmockingbird asked in one of the reviews what the relationship between Carol and Remy was prior to Rogue's return and I'll answer it here in case anybody else was wondering: I would say their relationship was a mutual yet professional loathing. He was attracted to her (in Rogue's body) initially and would have tried to flirt like always, but then once he got to know how straight-laced "Carol" was, they clashed. A lot. Made for an uncomfortable Blue Team.

This interlude would take place during the last couple pages of Uncanny X-Men #258 if anybody is interested in doing some homework. Thanks again for the reviews!

* * *

 **Interlude: Chasing the Sunset**

 _Three years before…_

 _Carol leaned against the rough wooden railing and watched in relief as the towering skyscrapers of Hong Kong grew smaller with each bob of their boat._

 _"Gimme a break!" Jubilee's high-pitched voice made Carol wince and she turned to where the young girl was huddled against the stiff ocean breeze in a massive yellow knit sweater. "She's a telepath!" the girl continued. "She could be playing with your head!"_

 _Logan, oblivious to the cold spray of the waves, stared towards the edge of the rickety wooden sailboat they had commandeered for their hasty escape from The Pearl of the Orient. "Tried that once," he growled. "Learned her lesson." He nodded at the woman who looked ready for battle, her purple hair a flapping flag in the wind. Logan walked towards the new face of Elisabeth Braddock, leaving an unhappy Jubilee muttering to Carol._

 _"I don't care what he says," she said out of the side of her big mouth. "I'll never trust her."_

 _Carol laid a hand on the shoulder of Jubilee's hideous sweater. "Logan does."_

 _"Do you?"_

 _Carol sighed. The real Betsy Braddock, though she had only known her a brief time, she trusted with her whole heart and soul. Whether this woman was really her… "Ask me again tomorrow."_

 _The two watched Logan and Psylocke until Logan parted from the woman and returned to the steering wheel. He signaled Carol to take to the sky. They had no maps, no navigation in their ancient, disintegrating vessel, so Carol had been flying to help them steer. Plan was to make it to friendlier waters and continue their search for the rest of the missing X-Men. She got high enough to see the curve of the Earth under the setting sun, and she directed Logan towards Madripoor, a neutral place they could catch their breath and hopefully an airplane back to the states. She landed lightly on the ship's deck and smoothed the frizzy strands of white from her face. My hair is hopeless, she chuckled to herself._

 _"Not your hair," Psylocke appeared next to the startled Carol. "Rogue's hair." The two women regarded each other carefully._

 _"Stay out of my head, Betsy," Carol warned, but the newly minted ninja tilted her head thoughtfully._

 _"You're very quick, Carol Danvers," she murmured, the accent still the same posh British, "to condemn powers that aided you in a time of desperate need. What was once done can be undone."_

 _Carol bristled. "Lady," she whispered, "are you threatening me?"_

 _The woman calling herself Betsy Braddock simply smiled. "Not a threat. Merely a suggestion that perhaps it is in your best interest to ensure mine…"_

* * *

 **Chapter Thirteen**

Raven's psyche sat in my mind like a rotten piece of fish sat in your belly. Voices, distant, angry, scared, screamed inside of me and I kept my teeth clenched against the flash-fried feeling that washed up and over my body in nauseating waves. Gambit had hauled my mother's unconscious body off of the floor of Cody's room and propped her in a chair, and had somehow managed to keep me upright in our rush out of the facility. I had been a trembling mess, but Mark Wright had offered smooth apologies to the nurse at the front desk as his fiancée was too overcome with emotion. Overcome with something that was for sure…we had gotten out of there without so much as a word between us. No questions, but with a laser focus he had turned our rental car towards New York, ignoring our return flight from the Jackson airport, driving like a madman. There would have been no way I could have handled getting on an airplane. I was barely able to sit still, my muscles clenching in uncontrollable spasms as I fought to keep Raven's shape-shifting abilities from running unchecked over my body.

From the passenger's seat, curled in a seat-belt wrapped ball, I drowned in my foster mother's memories. Her mind was one of the most tangled and tortured I had ever had the misfortune of absorbing, so much pain, hurt, regret, her memories shifted as readily as her skin, twisting away from me whenever I reached out to grab ahold of something tangible. Nothing made sense. Everywhere, images of me, of Carol, of books, pages, frenzied and confused drawings…Trembling shockwaves rocked me as I struggled to hold on to my sanity, and my skin seared with agonizing pinpricks. The more I tried to make sense of it all, of Raven, the more she turned herself inside out within me. Her personality was strong, and I knew if I let my grip on her slip for even an instant, if I gave in to her rage and madness, I would be lost, my body under the control of someone else again. I gritted my teeth and spent hours riding out the painful waves of her emotions until Gambit finally stopped the car. Shaking, I took a bleary look out the window at the looming neon sign of a generic Super 8.

He sighed and ran his hands down his face. "I'm sorry, chere, but I gotta rest for a couple hours. Can't see straight anymore…" He touched my shoulder and I flinched away, trying to shrink into the seat. "Stay here. I'll get us a room." His troubled, tired eyes searched for mine. I tried to smile weakly and his gloved hand brushed back the sweaty strands of white hair that were plastered to my forehead. "I'll be right back." He unfolded his long legs from the driver's seat and glided into the hotel lobby.

Once he was gone, I tested my body's boundaries a bit. I put my feet back on the floor and took a glove off, concentrating on the hand in front of my face, willing it to change its shape. Nothing happened. Her howling, wounded mind was quieting, her powers finally fading. I hadn't wanted to let down my guard while he was in the car, who knew what Mystique in control of my body would have done to him, but now that he was gone, I gave in to my exhaustion and let out a great shuddering breath. I flopped my head back against the seat's headrest and stared back towards the running car's illuminated clock. 2:30 a.m. We had been up and attem to leave for the airport in Westchester at four a.m. the morning before, and had been screaming for home since after lunch. No wonder he had to stop, neither of us had slept in nearly twenty-four hours. I didn't know where the hell we were, but I knew it was almost a full day's drive from Mississippi to the school. We had left Raven, left Cody, and just ran. I had been in no shape to sort any of it out, but absorbing Mystique may not have been one of my brighter moves. I had just wanted answers. Was that really too much to ask? Gambit had done the right thing getting us the hell out of there. Part of me hoped she had come to and gotten out of there as well, before anybody found her, but a low down, angry part of me hoped she had gotten caught and somebody had locked her up.

Gambit came back and grabbed our overnight bags, shooing away my hands when I tried to help. "You just concentrate on getting up those stairs, petite. Damn room is on the second floor, no elevator. What kind of place isn't handicap accessible?" he muttered, and I kept a shaky hand on his arm as we walked. My leg actually felt usable, a miracle considering how long I had been curled up on the passenger's seat, I was just horribly unsteady from the big drink of crazy I had sucked down, and my nerves sizzled uncomfortably beneath my clothing. We walked down the worn geometric carpet blanketing the floor of the overly bright hallway in an exhausted silence. Gambit slipped in the keycard and held the door open for me, balancing one bag on his graceful hip. Two queen beds took up most of the space, and their comforters looked to be as threadbare as the carpeting.

Depositing our bags, Gambit gestured to the beds and stumbled to the bathroom with his toothbrush in hand. "Ladies' choice…" he mumbled. I picked a bed, and by the time I was done with my turn in the bathroom, the Cajun was sprawled face up on his, snoring softly. I would have poked him in the ribs to get him to stop, but he looked so peaceful lying there. Peaceful, and absolutely gorgeous. He was shirtless, the tanned flesh of his abs sculpted into at least an eight-pack, the sharp v-cut dippin' into the waistband of a skimpy pair of athletic shorts that showcased a nearly scandalous profile of his... _Oh my_...I snapped my eyes away and felt my face redden. At least he was fast asleep. I would never live it down if he caught me ogling him like that again. I flipped off the lamp and rolled away from him, my skin still tingling, mercifully asleep before I could even think about everything I had seen today.

Next thing I knew, I was running for my life, my heart a thundering jackhammer in my heaving chest. The ground beneath my feet was a tripwire tangle of rocks and dirt, barely illuminated by a full moon peeking through the snarl of darkened treetops. I stopped short, a cold sweat bathing me. Shouts and the howls of dogs carried through the forest and a fear gripped my bowels. I clutched the warm, squirming bundle to my chest and bolted, exhausted, worn to the bone, I pushed on over the jumble of brush and branches that scraped and scratched my exposed skin. The sounds, the rage-filled shouts, were growing louder, the howls triumphant. A new sound, the sound of roaring water, rushed to my ears and I sprinted for the waterfall. I stumbled, my ankle giving out near the edge and I screamed as the bundle flew from my arms, the blanket swaddling the baby slipping loose, wide frightened yellow eyes that were a match for mine staring back in a slow motion freefall...

"NOOOOO!" I screamed until my throat was raw, even as the dogs were on me, their teeth tearing into me…

"Anna! Anna!" Strong hands grabbed me, but I kicked and flailed out in horror. "Chere! It's just a dream! You safe!"

My breath came in a choke and I opened wild eyes to meet equally desperate red on black orbs. "Remy…?" I croaked, but his face blurred out in a salty wash of tears. He hadn't put on a t-shirt, but pulled the sheet between us before he cradled me in his arms.

"Merde. You were…I thought…" he rocked me slowly, his hands and sweet whispered words calming my panicked body until I was lulled back to a dreamless sleep. My last memories of the faded nightmare were how much the baby in my dream had looked like Illyana's stuffed Bamf doll...

I woke to the faintest traces of light outlining the hotel room's blackout curtains, alone in my bed. Rolling over, I let my bleary, sleep-filled eyes trace the room. Gambit's bed was empty and the comforter looked unruffled. He hadn't gone back to it after calming me down. I swallowed and sat up. That had been stupid of me, letting him sleep so close. Stupid and dangerous. How could I have been so careless? One simple brush of his bare skin while we were asleep and I could have torn his mind out of his body, maybe permanently. Despite how angry I was at myself, butterflies flapped their wings inside my stomach. He had stayed by me all night with his solid arms wrapped around me. It had been a long time since anyone had cared that much about me to take that kind of risk, stupid or no.

Warren's malicious words of warning rang in my ears, but I pushed them away. What would Gambit have to gain from stringing me along? What kind of game did Warren think Remy was playing? I knew Gambit wasn't honest with me or with anybody, not entirely, and I wasn't sure yet if I trusted him, but deep down I was sure that he was a loyal, caring man who would fight fiercely to protect those he loved. I just couldn't let myself wonder if I was one of those people.

A pad of hotel stationary was propped in front of the alarm clock, covered in the fluid slant of his handwriting. I rolled over and snatched it, flipping the sheet off of me and flopping my legs to the floor.

 _"A-,"_ the note read. _"Went in search of breakfast. Tell your stomach I'll be back soon. –R."_

On cue, my belly growled in an embarrassingly loud gurgle that made me laugh until I snorted. I decided to shower to speed up our departure and stood to stretch and gather my things, bracing myself for the usual shooting pains and hobble that came with my still healing body. When I stepped onto my bum leg, no pain came. I took a few uneasy steps around the room, expecting my nerves to seize up and send absolute agony up my burn damaged skin, but except for the strange tingling buzz left over from absorbing Mystique, my body felt almost…normal.

I closed the door to the bathroom and started the shower, stripping off my pajamas. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror before it steamed over and gasped. The puckered pink scars that had decorated my legs since the explosion had faded in the span of a few hours. I bent to examine some of the worst, where the flesh had been burned but not entirely healed by absorbing Logan's powers, brushing my skin with amazed fingers. It was nearly smooth, the scars just faded pink memories. I sat with a thud onto the edge of the bathtub. What the hell? I stretched out my bare, formerly bum leg and wiggled the toes, pain-free for the first time since I had opened my eyes in the infirmary. How? My skin had hurt, every nerve dancing in fire during our escape from Mississippi, but I had chalked it up to trying to keep the Mystique inside me on a leash. Had the pain been a pain of healing instead? Did Mystique have a healing factor like Wolverine? That would sure as hell explain a lot of her supposed good luck over the years, and if that was the case, if a dose of healing factor was all it took, I expected a big 'I told you so' from Logan…

I stood under the warm water without holding on to the handicapped bar. As I turned the shower off, the surprising ring of the room's telephone reached my ears. I hastily wrapped a towel around myself and stuck my head out the door. Gambit wasn't back yet and I rushed out of the steamy bathroom and snatched it on the fourth ring.

"Hello?" I answered warily.

"Rogue? Is that you?" Bobby Drake's voice usually held a smile, but today it sounded thick, worn. A cold feeling crept up my still damp skin and my heart skipped a beat.

"Yeah, sugar, it's me. When did you get back from Dallas? You don't have to come and get us at the airport, we're headed home by land instead of the air…" He sighed a shaky sigh on the other end of the line. "Is everything all right, Bobby?"

"Illyana died last night."

I clutched the towel to me and tried to keep myself upright. "Oh, no…is Pete…?" The click of the keycard preceded Gambit swinging open the door, his arms laden with bags of McDonald's breakfast, two coffees in hand. He closed the door with his backside and stepped into the room, nearly dropping the food when he caught sight of me in nothing but my towel. His wide open mouth shifted to his devil smirk and he moved closer, but when he saw the expression on my face, saw my shaking hands, he hastily set the food and drinks on the table and moved near to eavesdrop.

"It's bad, Rogue," Bobby was crying, but trying his best to hide it. "Really bad. Pete didn't even get to say goodbye…" Remy stood close enough to touch me, close enough to feel the heat of his body warming my clammy skin.

"When's the funeral?" I asked, my voice wavering. Gambit's face fell and he brushed gloved knuckles down the side of my cheek. When I got the information we needed, I said my goodbyes to Bobby with promises we'd be home soon. Gambit took the phone from me and hung it up. I didn't even try to stop the tears that poured from my eyes as I stood there, dangerous in my skimpy covering.

He took my face between his gloved hands and wiped the tears away. "The girl?" he asked quietly. I nodded, but my lips trembled, followed closely by the rest of my body in the chill of the air conditioning. "Don't cry, chere. Tears don't bring back the dead…"

I kept my hands tight on the hem of my towel. "But she was just a little girl, Remy." He inched even closer and I felt the rapid thudding of his heart on the back of my hands pressed between our chests. "It's just not fair…"

"Lots of things in this world not fair, Anna." His breath brushed against my lips while his eyes searched mine.

I froze, my conflicted heart an agonizing mix of fear, guilt, and grief, wanting so desperately to seek comfort in his arms, but too afraid of what that could mean. "Remy, we can't…"

He smiled sadly and stepped away from me, his eyes burning a trail of want and need up and down my exposed skin. "I know, chere. Like I said, lots of things ain't fair…"


	14. Chapter 14

All characters owned by Marvel Comics

Author's notes: I think my influences are showing...the 90's cartoon was my gateway to the X-Men (Uncanny #303 and X-Men #24 were the first X-Men comics I officially read, no wonder I ship who I ship, right?) so this time period definitely has a special place in my heart!

Even though Mystique didn't give Rogue exactly what she was looking for, she was inadvertently helpful. Don't worry, Rogue'll get answers soon enough.

This interlude stands in place of Uncanny X-Men #251

* * *

 **Interlude: Never Again**

 _Three years, two months before…_

 _The aging jeep rolled to a stop in a cloud of dust so thick she couldn't see her hand in front of her face. She sputtered and stepped out of the passenger side, vainly patting the reddish grime from her jeans and leather jacket._

 _Logan stepped out of the driver's side, stretching thick arms over burly shoulders, and reached into the back seat for his cowboy hat. "Don't know about you, Ace," he grinned and donned the hat, smoothing the brim with his fingers, "but I'm ready for a brew."_

 _Carol came around to his side of the jeep. "What I'm ready for is a shower. It's been a long, dirty few days." Shielding her eyes with a hand, she took a slow look around the isolated Outback town, the battered wooden buildings obscured in long, low shadows. "Why do you suppose Gateway didn't bring us home this time? Am I mistaken, or isn't that what usually happens?"_

 _Logan grunted and started meandering for the town saloon. "Usually. This time he didn't. We made do."_

 _Carol raised her hands in exasperation and followed him. "That's not the point. Why didn't he bring us home?" Her seventh sense was screaming inside her, and she hugged herself in the dying heat. "Something is wrong here, Logan." With her superstrength she seized him by the shoulder. "Really wrong. Where are the X-Men?" The town was absolutely silent except for their words and the scrape of their boots._

 _He shrugged off her hand and tipped his hat back. "Relax, willya? Team's probably on a mission." He turned back around and climbed the steps to the bar. "Flamin' broad…team can take care of themselves…"_

 _She felt it before she saw it. Danger! She barreled into Logan full tilt, shoving him hard to the side of the saloon's swinging doors. He snarled from underneath her as a glinting harpoon whizzed past their heads and buried itself into the ground in front of the bar._

 _"Fuck!" Logan was on his feet, claws extended, before their would-be assailants exited the bar. The Reavers. Psycho cyborg killers, hell bent on revenge against the X-Men. They had used this town as their base until the X-Men had dismantled their criminal operations, and had been itching for a chance to even the score. If they were here, Carol sincerely hoped the X-Men weren't._

 _She chose her first targets and sprung from the ground, arms outstretched, and caught two of them in the flesh of their guts, doubling them over. She drug them airborne at supersonic speeds, and, holding them tight, spun furiously like a top and let go, sending two murderous half-man, half-machines rocketing off into the unforgiving desolation of the Outback. Back to the ground in the blink of an eye, she found Logan again, his claws tangled in the technical components of the Reaver named Pretty Boy. Carol dodged cannon shots from more of them, her zig-zags confusing the villains' aim, twisting them enough that they fired on one another in an effort to bring her down, nailing Pretty Boy in the process. They destroyed each other in a tremendous blast, their components sizzling and short circuiting._

 _"Logan!" she screamed. Donald Pierce, the Reavers' leader and a man that hated Wolverine to the depths of his black soul, held Wolverine by the throat high over his head. Letting her instincts take control, Carol laid into Pierce's backside with all her might, fifty tons of furious force that cracked the cyborg in half. The fragments of Pierce dropped into a heap on the gravel, and Logan landed on his feet, snarling, his healing throat a bloody, shredded mess._

 _"Where are they? Where are the X-Men!?" Rasping, he shook Pierce like a rag doll, but the villain's laugh was an uncontrolled wheeze._

 _"Where…you'll never find them…" The villain gasped and smiled before Logan sliced his claws through the man's neck. Pierce's unattached head rolled unevenly and stopped against Carol's foot, the unseeing eyes staring blankly up at her._

 _She covered her mouth with her hand and glared at Logan. "Thanks a lot, chum." She kicked the head away and surveyed the carnage they had wrought. The body-count was high, but knowing what she did of the Reavers, she doubted even this was the end of the band of murderous criminals. "You okay partner?" Logan was a gory mess, but his wounds were already sealing themselves. He nodded. She ran a troubled hand through her wind matted hair. "Do you think they got the X-Men?"_

 _Logan inhaled deeply. "I don't smell any blood but theirs, but we better start a search." He gestured towards the first wooden building that served as Alison Blaire's quarters. "We better not split up. I don't want any more damn surprises." Carol spared an uneasy glance at the bodies of their attackers. "Don't give them a second thought, Ace. They had worse in store for us. We'll bury them in a bit, just want to figure out what the hell's goin' on first."_

 _For hours, there was nothing. No sign anyone but the Reavers had been there for days, weeks maybe. Carol was ready to suggest they call it a night before the dingoes go to the remains of the villains when Logan growled and dropped into a crouch. She knelt beside him and met his eyes, the old habits of teamwork a worn pair of shoes they both stepped into. In a storage area off the main computer room, he pulled on a section of wall, but jumped back when the hole erupted in a shower of pastel fireworks that streaked the length of the room, exploding in a spray of sparks._

 _A squeaky voice echoed from the opening. "Back off, Rock 'em Sock 'em Robots!" The voice was female, and sounded young, scared._

 _Carol and Logan exchanged bewildered glances, and Logan leaned towards the hole again. "We ain't robots, kid!" More fireworks pushed him back in a flash of heat that scorched his eyebrows. He snarled and popped his claws, but Carol grabbed his forearm and cowed him with a glare._

 _"Why don't you come out of there?" she called. "We're the good guys, the X-Men!"_

 _"The X-Men?" A small head with short, spiky, black hair peeped out of the hole and eyed Carol and Logan suspiciously before she climbed free and stood before them. Carol estimated her age to be about twelve, and she was petite, of Chinese descent, and looked like it had been a while since she had a hot meal. "You guys were all gone…" The girl screwed up her face in an angry scowl, but she was quaking with fear. "You were gone, and then those terminator rip-offs came in like they owned the place…"_

 _Running a hand across his jaw, Logan snorted. "That's cause they did," he muttered._

 _Carol gave him a look, but smiled warmly at the girl. "I'm Carol, this is Logan. What's your name?"_

 _"Jubilee."_

 _Carol's tone turned serious. "Jubilee, we need to find out what happened to the rest of the X-Men. Can you help us do that?"_

 _Jubilee shrugged and shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her tattered jean shorts. "I can try, but, like, I haven't seen 'em for days. Nobody but that old dude on the hill."_

 _Logan scrubbed his hands down his face. "Oh, cripes…"_

 _Carol felt her heart sink. Gateway, the silent Aborigine, was probably their only eye witness to the possible fate of their teammates. The trio made their way to Gateway's precipice courtesy of Carol's power of flight, much to Jubilee's delight. The ancient, weather-beaten man was where they had expected him, keeping his silent Outback vigil. Upon landing, Logan sniffed a frantic circle around the top of the craggy platform. Carol knelt next to Gateway, and Jubilee followed close behind Wolverine's heels._

 _Logan seized to a halt and the girl bumped into his back, nearly toppling to the ground, but Logan caught her. "I got this, kid," he grumbled. "X-Men were here, scents are a few days old, though. Reavers' stink is crawling all over the slope, but not up here."_

 _"What does that mean?" Carol scowled at Gateway. "Where did they go, old man? Did you send them somewhere?"_

 _Logan and Jubilee moved closer to them. "I know how you can find out what he knows, Ace."_

 _She jumped up and backed away from them and from Gateway. "No." The one word was a harsh dagger._

 _"You know there's no other way."_

 _Fighting the unwelcome sting of sudden tears, she stepped to Gateway and laid a hand softly on his bare shoulder. "Forgive me," she whispered, and dug deep, accessing a part of another she thought was locked away, buried beneath the weight of her subconscious, and pulled, felt the sickening flow of another's soul, another's world slide inside her. She gasped and dropped to her knees, and Gateway slumped to the ground. Logan reached to pick her up, but she pushed him away._

 _"Don't touch me!" The sensation of someone else overwhelmed her, and she pitched forward and vomited onto the rocky ground. Logan crouched next to her, but she waved his arms away. "No…" She let it roll through her, saw the world through the Aborigine's eyes, the visions of the last few days a nightmare for the X-Men. "They needed us…" she hissed. "…they needed us…and we weren't here…" she turned her head, peering through sweaty strands of hair, tears running down her face in rivulets. "Don't you ever make me do this again!" she screamed. "Do you hear me?! Never again!"_

 _"Carol, darlin'…"_

 _"Ororo's dead!" she spat, and Logan blanched, opening his mouth to speak, but she let it all spill out of her, the X-Men's last stand. "Alex killed her! The Reavers attacked and Betsy…she tricked them…Betsy opened the Siege Perilous and…they're gone, Logan. They're all gone…"_

 _Logan's face was ashen, his eyes wide in disbelief. "'Roro. Can't be…"_

 _The distant growl of thunder echoed as if on cue, and Carol and Logan looked at each other in bewildered anguish, unsure of their next move._

* * *

 **Chapter Fourteen**

Gambit didn't say much on the mad rush back to Westchester, but each sideways glance seemed to be checking to make sure I hadn't shattered into a thousand pieces on the passenger's seat. I was sad for Illyana, for the girl I had known, heartbroken for Peter and Kitty, but my grief wasn't what was givin' me heart palpitations. Absorbing Raven's powers had shifted something inside me, no pun intended, and my skin still tingled beneath my layers of clothing, my palms sweaty beneath my gloves. The sensations were uncomfortable, but the pain that had plagued me for months was completely, inexplicably, gone.

The others had tried for weeks to convince me to absorb Logan's powers again, but I hadn't been able to bring myself to take anything more from him, not when Carol's original absorption had nearly cost him his life. He was my friend and I wouldn't put him in danger no matter how much hurt I had been in. Besides, he hadn't really been in good enough shape yet for me to borrow much of anything from him, his recovery still progressing at a snail's pace thanks to the damage my foster mother had inflicted upon him.

More troubling was what had happened when I had tried to absorb Raven in Cody's room. There had been a few heartbeats of skin to skin contact between us. My powers had always been instantaneously uncontrollable, the merest brush of bare flesh delivering a whole mouthful of someone else to my system. There had been nothing, no pulling of Raven's powers until I had dug deep and forced it to happen. I had been reluctant to even test my abilities since waking up. Was there something wrong with them? The last thing I wanted to do was find a guinea pig, but the time may have come. I needed Hank to look me over, but he was surely emotionally exhausted after losing Illyana. I didn't want to bother him just yet. Maybe after the funeral, when things had calmed down…

We made it home in record time, Gambit only stopping for gas and bathroom breaks. The man was relentless, focused. We had originally taken a cab to the airport, but Remy took the rental car straight to the mansion and parked it in front of the stone steps to unload. I hated to think how expensive renting a car in Mississippi and returning it in New York was gonna be, but I kept my mouth shut, grateful to be home. He grabbed both our bags and I climbed the front steps in a daze, his wary and weary eyes following me inside to the eerily quiet front hall. I took my bag and walked a few feet before his voice halted me in my tracks at the bottom of the main staircase.

"Rogue. Stop." I turned towards him. His eyebrows were drawn together over tired eyes, but he crooked a finger towards me. "Come back here. _Please_." I was ready to argue, but didn't feel like picking a fight, he had said please after all, and I had forgotten my manners, hadn't thanked him properly, so I stepped back towards him, his eyes following me the whole way.

"Yes?"

He flattened his full lips into a thin, white line. "Infirmary. Now."

"Why? I feel fine, and Hank's got other things on his mind…"

He grabbed my arm and hauled me towards the elevator leading to the lower levels, hustling me gently inside. "You're fine." He sighed and rubbed his eyes before he punched the down button, the doors sliding shut. "And when did that happen, Anna?"

I scowled at him. "Don't call me that. I'd still like to keep it private, please."

He rolled his eyes. "Don't change the subject. Here, and at every rest stop we hit in the Eastern Time Zone, I watched you walk tall, pain free. I haven't seen you move one muscle without grittin' your teeth to hide the agony you been in, not since I've known you. Yet, today, bam, you walkin' like you were never hurt in the first place. I want to know how that happened."

Leaning against the glossy elevator wall as it slid to a stop, I sighed loudly. "I don't know how it happened." The doors whooshed open before us and he gestured for me to leave first.

"How can you not know?" he whispered on our way through the still silent corridor. I merely shrugged. Where was everyone? I couldn't stop myself from glancing at what was Illyana's room on the way by. The bed was empty, the sheets, flowers, and stuffed animals all taken away. I bit back the heavy wash of grief that flared in my chest. What good was it to dream of the future when we couldn't save one little girl?

The lights to the infirmary flickered on at our entrance, and Remy deposited his bag on the floor and leaned over the computer console. "Don't need Henri…" he muttered. "I'm not an idiot…"

I hugged myself in the chill, the tingling and shivers intensifying one another. "Never said you were, Remy."

He grunted and stood, pointing to the paper sheet wrapped table. "Lie down, Anna." It was on the tip of my tongue to chew him out about my name again, but the memory of my earlier conversation with Ororo about her nickname surfaced. I was flapping my lips to a lost cause, my real name would be common knowledge by lunchtime. I dropped my bag on the floor beside me and hopped onto the bed, easing myself back, no sharp stab to the chest while my ab muscles rolled me flat. He approached with a handheld scanner. Hovering the device just above me, he traced the length of my body, the frown lines on his handsome face becoming more and more pronounced. He pulled one glove off with his teeth to operate the touchscreen. "Merde," he breathed through the material.

I tried to keep my tone light and tugged the glove from his mouth, throwing it onto a nearby table. "Is it that bad?" I joked, but his red eyes flashed to mine.

"This is insane. I'm running a comparison to the last scans McCoy took before he cleared you for Mississippi and…" His mouth hung open and he shook his head in disbelief. "It's like you were never hurt at all. There's barely even traces of scar tissue…" He stopped the scanner, staring at it like a goldfish out of water and I sat up and swung my legs easily over the edge. He leaned back against the bed right next to me, his hip against my outer thigh, elbow on top of my leg. "How is this possible?"

I shrugged. "I don't know, sugar, but I think it was absorbing Mystique."

"What, you think she has a healing factor or something?"

"Makes sense. She puts her body through a tremendous amount of strain every time she changes shape. I can tell you from experience that the pain is pretty intense when she shifts, and she's survived time and again when she shouldn't have…"

"You're goddamn right about that." Logan's growl startled us both and the Wolverine eyeballed our cozy stance suspiciously from where he leaned his burly body in the doorway. "I gutted that bitch, no offense darlin', and she still threw a grenade at our feet and walked away to tell the tale." Remy handed Logan the scanner when he came closer to us. "What the fuck is this, Cajun?" he snarled, and an exasperated Remy pointed to the small screen.

"Look at these scans. There's almost no comparison!"

Logan arched an eyebrow at me, but I just shrugged. He grinned. "Told ya' to absorb my powers again, darlin'. Would have saved you a lot of grief."

Huffing, I crossed my arms and stuck my tongue out at him. "You needed it, not me." I narrowed my eyes at his throaty chuckle. "Ass."

Remy frowned and crossed his own arms over his chest. "Maybe we do need Henri," he mumbled.

My temper crawled up my throat. "We don't need Hank. Not today." Remy and Logan's mouths popped open in unison but I held up a finger to shush them. "This is not an emergency. This will still be here in a few days, and Hank needs a break after everything that just happened. I'm perfectly fine." Hopping down, I completely forgot about the overnight bag I had dropped on the floor underneath me. My feet tangled in the straps and I skidded and landed with a hard thud on my ass, biting my lip and dragging down the crinkling paper sheet down from the exam table. We all three started laughing at once, great guffaws at my gracefulness. "Ow." I hurt, but I couldn't stop laughing, tasting the rust of blood in my mouth.

Remy knelt next to me, his face flip-flopping between concern and outright peals of laughter. "Perfectly fine she says…where's a camera when you need one?" Logan was practically crying as he stood over us and I scowled up at him. Remy smiled and wiped the blood from my mouth with his thumb.

"I'm fine," I said, "Really. Embarrassed…" I turned my eyes back to Remy, but his stared at mine, wide as saucers. "What…?"

"Holy shit, darlin'…" Logan's face matched Remy's.

"What, did I rip my pants, too…?" I put a hand up to where Remy's still rested on my face and froze. In a careless move, Remy had used his ungloved hand to wipe the smear of blood from my lips. He had touched me, and like in Mississippi, nothing had happened. I backed away as far as I could from the still conscious Cajun.

"You better call McCoy," Logan growled.


	15. Chapter 15

All characters owned by Marvel Comics

Author's notes: Big dose of Papa Bear Logan this chapter. We learn a little more about Rogue's powers, and by accident, Logan's too. Thanks for reading!

* * *

 **Interlude: Lucky Break**

 _Three years and three months before…_

 _"You look ridiculous, chum."_

 _Logan glanced up from his can of Molson and scowled, one raised eyebrow restricted by a pointless eyepatch. "And you look…dangerous." He downed the can in one gulp and spun around on his barstool. The white tuxedo jacket he was wearing was crumpled, the bow tie undone, but his usually messy hair was thoroughly gelled into submission. He eyed Carol thoughtfully, one unencumbered orb trailing up from leg to waist to face. When you traveled to Madripoor, specifically The Princess Bar, you dressed the part. Her teal mini skirt and bustier top were covered by a matching cropped jacket, and her stiletto heels lifted her a good four inches from the filth of the floor. Logan grinned and wiped the beer foam from his mouth. "Didn't expect to see you still in the driver's seat, Ace. Is the kid all right?"_

 _"Yeah, well…" she trailed off rather than offering a real answer, her eyes darting away from her old colleague's penetrating gaze, trying to cover it by eyeballing a reconnaissance sweep of the bar. "She just needed a break."_

 _"A break?" Logan asked incredulously. "And don't you think you should cover up? Her powers…" The rough crowd surged and slammed into Carol's back, propelling her into Logan's lap. The force wedged her face against the bare skin of his neck, and Logan gripped her tight and lifted her slightly away from him, the fear in his eyes turning to outright confusion. "What the flamin'…?"_

 _Carol shrugged and righted herself, smoothing out her hiked up miniskirt. "I don't know, but for whatever reason, the lack of control was her problem, not mine."_

 _He gestured to the stool next to him and signaled Rosie for another round. Leaning back, he removed a cigar from his jacket pocket and placed it between his lips. "Then that's what they call a lucky break." He struck a match on the edge of the grimy bar and held the flickering flame to the end of the cigar, drawing on it deeply._

 _Carol's eyes were piercing blue daggers. "Lucky? Is that what this is?"_

 _Logan took a drag and met her eyes. "You're running the show, ain'tcha? What would you call it?"_

 _She turned her face to stare at the rows of dusty bottles behind the bar, and watched the back and forth of the disreputable patrons in the dirty mirrored panels, pointedly ignoring Logan for a silent stretch of minutes._

 _"Can you?" He leaned towards her again and reached for her hand. "Use them, I mean?"_

 _Carol snatched her hand away. "I don't know. I don't want to know, Logan." She looked down at her bare hands, Rogue's hands, the hands that had ripped her mind and memories from their original body. "I won't put anyone else through that." She stood and turned to face him. "Time to come home, Patch. Storm needs you."_

 _Logan took a long drag on his cigar, his face dangerous shadows in the glowing light. "Lead the way, Ace." He pulled off the eyepatch and tossed it onto the bar. "Keep the change, Rosie."_

* * *

 **Chapter Fifteen**

I had been wrong about Hank. The kindhearted Cookie Monster hadn't even paused for a breath after Illyana died, instead practically barricading himself inside the lab with his research in a desperate attempt to find a cure for the virus that had cost the Little Snowflake her life. His response to any attempted communication was a curt brush off through the security screen of the lab's door, not even botherin' to hear what we had to say. Story of my life, me and my powers seemed to take a backseat where the X-Men were concerned. It was hard not to be pissed off about it, but I knew Hank well enough to know he was takin' blame for Illyana's death all on himself, and that was truly a shame.

The whole mansion was still walking on eggshells, broken hearts and open wounds roamed the wood-paneled hallways. Talkin' to Jean and the Professor about what had happened was out of the question for the time being. They were both workin' overtime to contact the extended family of the X-Men, wanting to make sure everyone who had loved and known the girl, no matter her age, could attend her memorial. How do you interrupt something like that? It was decided that the service wouldn't be held for a week to allow for travel time from the ends of the Earth. Hopefully, the world would see fit to hold back any disasters that needed the X-Men's attention, but I didn't see that as likely. The Professor especially had been putting in long hours strapped to Cerebro, the mutant hunting device of his own creation, sweeping the globe for who he wouldn't say, but my guess was he had been looking for the AWOL Summers brothers and their renegade team, X-Force. Many of the team's members had started their tenure at Xavier's as part of the New Mutants, and had been comrades with Illyana. They would want to know. Problem was, nobody knew where they were. Word was Warren and Betsy had run off together for the group's last known location, presumably to join up, and the advent of Psylocke's telepathy would make them that much harder to find if she was still sore at Xavier.

It had almost looked like I was gonna get my wish to let whatever was goin' on with my powers and body lie low until all this settled down, but Remy and Logan weren't having it. That's how, instead of being poked and prodded in the cold sanitized white of the infirmary, I was outside the last few days, facing scrutiny of a different sort.

I barely ducked under the hiss of the staff that whizzed over my head, close enough for the sharp snap of its breeze to ruffle the hairs that had fallen loose from my braid. I swung out a leg to trip my sparring partner, but he jumped it easily and used the end of the staff and my own momentum to topple me onto my ass.

"Shit!" I swore and tried to scramble to my feet, but he held me down with the end of the weapon to my breastbone, his red eyes glinting mischievously.

"Sorry, chere. Like I always tell your furry friend: Bang, you dead!" I swatted the staff away and a laughing Gambit offered a hand and hauled me to my feet. Sweat ran from my hair and I wiped my forehead with the back of my gloved hand.

We had been at this for days, but it was my fault really. I had said I was fine, all better, argued that I didn't need anyone to look me over, and Logan had told me to shut up and prove it. The scans Remy had taken had shown no remaining injuries to my body. I was as healthy as I ever was, minus Carol's powers. None of us could even hazard a guess about what was going on with _my_ powers, but Wolverine's big idea had been some old-fashioned training sessions, away from the mansion, no Danger Room, no prying eyes, to test my body's limits. At first, I thought it could be fun, it had been so long since I had been able to move freely on my own that I was itching for the chance to spread my seemingly healed proverbial wings, but I had forgotten what a relentless asshole Logan could be. We had started slow enough for him to get the measure of how healed I was, and after enough proof on that front, he had hammered me. I had spent _days_ fighting Logan, Gambit, and Jubilee in the woods surrounding the mansion, and after too much time spent broiling under the hot sun, I was finally ready to call uncle.

Ready, at least, to demand a new outfit. I regretted the hasty donation of my old costume, especially when I had tried on what passed for the school's uniform these days. A section of that get-up was currently crawling up the crack of my ass for the hundredth time today and I picked it out as discreetly as I could, but Gambit smirked at me.

"Anything I can help you wit'?"

Rolling my eyes, I turned my attention to Logan. "Are we done for today?"

He took a drag off his cigar and ground it against the trunk of the tree he was standing under, an unusually quiet Jubilee sitting cross-legged in the shade beneath it. Illyana's death had hit her hard, but she hadn't yet been able to admit it, putting up a brave front to anybody that asked. "Yeah, you're healed all right. Rusty as hell, I'm gonna have to drag you to the Danger Room daily to get you back up to snuff, especially if Danvers' powers are gone for good, but we got a bigger problem." He stepped out towards me and into the sun.

I crossed my arms in irritation and Remy sauntered over to the shade and grabbed a water from the cooler resting beside Jubilee. His trench coat was draped over the branches of the tree and the magenta body armor of his costume ordinarily hidden by the leather fabric of his jacket followed every cut and curve of his chiseled chest. I forced my eyes back to Logan. "What's that, sugar?"

He circled me, but I didn't turn to follow him on his way around. "Problem is, you ain't workin' everything you got to win. You ain't focusing, ain't using all your strengths. You let yourself get beat by me, the Cajun, almost by the half-pint…"

"Hey!" Jubilee yelled from the tree, but Logan held up his hand to quiet her.

My temper flared and my cheeks burned. "I didn't _let_ myself…"

He got right in my face and his angry eyes were a match for mine. "Yes, you did. Every day you been dancin' away from your powers and gettin' your ass kicked because of it." I opened my mouth but snapped it shut right away, unable to keep meeting his eyes. He leaned into my ear until his cheek almost touched mine, his gravelly voice pitched so low only I could hear. "I don't want to see you hurt again, darlin', but we gotta know if its healed, too. I know it scares you, but it's the best weapon you got." I jerked my head back and flicked angry eyes to his. "Think about it! You can know your enemy better than anybody, better than even the best mind-readers! You can take somebody's guns from 'em at the same time you take 'em down! All you gotta do is learn control."

I took a big step back from him, my stomach twisting itself into knots. All the fighting he had put me through the last few days, and I hadn't once laid a bare hand on anybody. "I _can't_ …"

He took off one of his gloves and held a burly hand towards me. "No, darlin', you can't. Not if you never try."

I bit my lip and stared at the bare skin of his hand. Could I do this? I had done a lot of soul searchin' these last few days, death will sometimes do that to a body. I still wanted to make a difference, to fight for Xavier's dream of a better world, that much I knew for certain, but how far was I willing to go? Don't get me wrong, my own dream of a normal life, two kids, a dog, the white picket fence, still tugged heavy at my heartstrings, but that kind of life would never happen, would never be a reality until mutants could walk the streets without fear of persecution. Logan was right, damn him. To be an X-Man was gonna take everything I had and everything I had been reluctant to use. My powers. Jesus H. Christ. Could I really do this? I took a shaky breath and slid off one yellow glove, dropping it to the grass beneath me, and reached for him with a trembling hand. I had touched Mystique, touched Remy, without the instant slap of my powers. Would Logan be the same?

His hand met mine halfway in a firm grip. After a few heartbeats of nothing, he smiled. "Ready?" he asked, rubbing his thumb reassuringly along my knuckles.

I could only nod and stare mutely at where his warm skin touched mine. I had always hated using my mutant powers, avoided it whenever possible because of what it did to me and to my victim. The feeling of being instantly overwhelmed by the thoughts and memories of another person was a horribly intimate and disturbing process, drowning in a riptide of feelings, completely out of control, and because of what a violation it was, I never let myself practice. Who would volunteer to have their soul torn over and over from their body? _No one._ But, staring at Logan, my friend and teammate, catching sight of Remy leaning easily against his staff, of Jubilation, blowing great pink bubbles, I knew that statement was wrong. Despite what Warren had said, despite my own mother leaving me to die in a pool of blood, I had people who cared for me, who were willing to take any risk to keep me safe. Besides, if anyone could handle the effects of my powers, it was Wolverine.

I took a shaky breath and, reaching low down to a place I rarely let myself go, pulled. With Mystique, I had yanked at her powers and psyche as hard as I could, had done my bewildered best to knock her unconscious on purpose. Now, with Logan, I gritted my teeth and tried to pull slowly, hand over mental hand, to control my ability and the damage it could cause. Could I keep him conscious if I tried? Could I slow the flow? Awareness of him crawled up my skin like a trickle instead of a bucket of ice water in my face.

He staggered a little and I ripped my hand away. "Don't…" he snarled and roughly grabbed my naked wrist in an adamantium grip. "I'm fine. Keep goin'." We both sank to our knees and his enhanced senses heaved over me in a wave of new smells, sights, and sounds. Suddenly, I could taste the fake strawberry of Jubilee's bubble gum, could tell she had eaten a brown sugar pop-tart for breakfast. I could hear the rustle and heartbeats of animals and birds in the woods, the roar of a motorcycle in the distance, the crinkle of the cellophane wrapped package of cigarettes in Remy's trench coat. Every nerve was alive and on fire at the same time, all the exhaustion I had felt, the weariness, was gone. I felt like I could sprint a marathon and still tangle with a grizzly bear just for the fun of it.

I had forgotten how amazing Logan's powers were. I usually absorbed him in the heat of the battle or when I had been seriously injured. I seldom had the opportunity to just enjoy how fun his enhanced senses and healing powers could be. There was a wildness, an edge that had me itchin' all over for action. No wonder he was so squirrely all the time, I felt like I was dancing the quickstep while standing still, my blood thrummed in my ears in a mad, hot rush.

I freed my wrist from the circle of his fingers and gaped at him. He was awake, conscious, and a huge grin split his face from sideburn to sideburn. I had done it. He was okay, but more importantly, more surprising, he wasn't in my head. No thoughts or memories, I had somehow managed to take only his powers. "Logan!" I breathed, "you're not…you're not here…" I tapped my index finger against my head. "…but, your powers…" From the ground, he unexpectedly dove at me, and the animal inside me, my animal, not his, dodged him easily and snarled.

Clearly recovered, he barked a challenge. "Well, darlin', since you still didn't go for the win, let's see what you got…" he growled and jumped for me again. We twisted and turned, moving as mirror images of one another. I hadn't gotten his memories, but my body was definitely taking its cues from his and I parried every thrust he threw my way, laughing at how easily I slipped from his grasp. It was lighthearted at first, a friendly game of tag, but the longer I evaded him, the more irritated he became. I smelled the anger as it rose on him, the rage, felt him ratchet up the intensity, and I responded with a roar. He had his powers, but so did I. I was his equal and it was pissing him off, but I egged him on, poking him hard in the skin between the ribs when his punch went wide.

"Hey, now, take it easy!" Remy called when it became clear we were no longer playing.

"Yeah, like, don't hurt each other!" Jubilee smelled like fear, like worry, but we ignored them and took ever maddening jabs at each other. He was bulkier, much heavier than I was, three hundred fifty pounds of solid muscle and hair over adamantium laced bones, but I was a lot faster, a prize fighter sparring with a ballet dancer. If he connected, it hurt like hell, but I dodged most of his hits and used his bulk against him, sending him sprawling onto the grass with a judo flip. He rolled into a fighting stance and snarled, the staccato snikt of his claws echoing through the clearing.

"Logan! NO!" Jubilee screamed and Remy rushed towards us, but in a berserker haze, beyond reason and words, Logan sprinted towards me and the animal in me howled back, wanting to finish him, the need for blood burning my throat. I balled my hands into angry fists and the backs of them exploded in a gory thunk of flesh and bone, the unforeseen pain dropping me to my knees like a ton of bricks. Logan skidded to a stop as hot trails of salty crimson streamed from six matching wounds on the backs of my hands to paint the green grass beneath me. I stared, horrified at the ghostly white of foot long bone claws dripping in torn skin and blood. My answering scream was inhuman.

"Stay back!" I heard him bellow through the red haze that thudded in front of my eyes. The borrowed healing factor fought to seal the wounds I had somehow ripped in my own body, but I couldn't think straight enough to retract the claws, too shocked at what I had done, at what this meant for my friend. I held my hands out and gazed at the thick claws, so white them were almost blue, glistening in the light of the setting sun.


	16. Chapter 16

All characters owned by Marvel Comic

Author's notes: An interesting twist this chapter, just remember, I am keeping this story pretty PG-13 so don't get too excited...

Thanks everybody for reading, this story is my first to reach triple digits on the reviews, you guys are awesome! (Glad everybody is liking it so far)

This interlude takes place just before the start of Uncanny X-Men #248

* * *

 **Interlude: Future's so Bright**

 _Three years and four months before…_

 _The Outback sunrise had barely kissed the sky, but Carol was already on her third cup of coffee, leaning blissfully back on the wooden glider perched on the front porch of her quarters, bare feet and legs resting on the slatted railing. She had come to relish these little moments, the rests in between the notes, found herself reveling in the routines she had been trying to establish. The routines numbed the guilt; she almost had herself convinced she was alive, that the life she was leading was her own. The quiet, as was typical, didn't last. She watched as Alex and Alison kicked up dust on their way by._

 _"Crap!" Alison stopped abruptly, Alex nearly tripping over her. "I forgot my tanning oil!" Alex Summers scratched a hand through his shaggy blonde hair. The two were starting out for their morning jog before the heat of the day made any movement impossible. Another routine, a nod towards normal life. Alison Blaire's short hair was slicked back and she was wearing next to nothing, a hot pink sports bra with matching bike shorts, Alex wearing even less, just a very skimpy pair of shorts. Carol took a moment to appreciate the view of his muscular chest and abs._

 _"Don't you mean sunscreen?" Alex corrected. "Tanning is really bad for you, you know…causes wrinkles…"_

 _Alison stalked off in a huff. "But, tan is sexier than pale! Be back in five minutes, ten, tops!" She jogged away and Alex shook his head after her retreating body, finally catching sight of Carol's long legs propped on the nearby railing._

 _"Tan is sexier than pale?" He grinned and walked towards Carol. "That is a matter of opinion." Leaning on the railing, he freely ran his eyes up those legs, following the curves barely concealed beneath a tank top and boy shorts, finishing at a pair of surprised blue eyes. "Beautiful," he murmured, Carol raising a questioning eyebrow. "Morning, that is. Beautiful morning. Full of surprises. You know, as much as I like your costume, Carol, it sure doesn't do Rogue's legs justice."_

 _She rolled her eyes, smiling in spite of his mention of Rogue. "It's too beautiful of a morning for a run, if you ask me," she kidded, changing the subject. "You already look like you're going to keel over." She stood, coming to sit on the edge of the railing next to him._

 _"Yeah, well, we're not all lucky enough to have superstrength and invulnerability."_

 _"Lucky? Is that what you call it? I never said thank you, by the way. If you hadn't blasted me free from that robot's grip at the last second, I would have followed it into Roma's little portal and ended up who knows where." She smiled over her coffee cup and steadied herself with one hand on the railing._

 _"Last minute miracles. The X-Men's stock in trade. How are you feeling, by the way? That thing nailed you pretty hard."_

 _"Better. Thank you"_

 _Alex leaned heavily against the railing, resting his elbows on the sand blasted wood. "How long does it take to grab tanning lotion?" he muttered._

 _"She probably had to redo her makeup."_

 _Alex groaned and hung his head down between his arms. "Jesus, you're right! It's gonna be noon before we get going! I'm gonna melt…" Careless, his elbow brushed the bare skin of Carol's exposed knee._

 _"Alex!" She jumped backwards, but knocked clumsily into the porch's vertical support beams. A still conscious Alex raised his head and stared in disbelief at where their skin remained joined._

 _"Holy shit," he whispered, his wide eyes meeting hers._

 _"Alex…" Carol's voice was a throaty warning, and she watched, trembling as Alex lifted a hand and laid it on the soft skin just above her knee. They both held their breath in anticipation, but when the horrible pull of someone else's supposedly uncontrollable powers never came, they sighed in unison._

 _"Wow," Alex smiled softly and lightly caressed her knee. "Like I said, full of surprises, Ms. Danvers."_

 _Carol grasped his hand, lifting it from her leg and depositing it on the railing, but she did not release it. "That's Major Danvers to you, Mr. Summers." Her voice was stern, but her smile simmered enough for Alex to lean forward._

 _"What say we…" the sudden roar of the wind that heralded Storm's arrival from the clear morning sky interrupted his words, and the pair grudgingly slid their hands apart. Already in uniform, Ororo landed and stepped regally towards them. "Mornin' boss," Alex turned and saluted, and Carol raised her coffee cup in greeting, ignoring the warm, unfamiliar feeling of butterflies in her stomach._

 _"Good morning. Tell me, have either of you seen Longshot today?"_

 _Alex frowned and ran a hand through his thick blonde hair again, Carol trying not to stare at the way his torso stretched with the motion. "Nope. Sorry, boss. Come to think of it, I don't know if I saw him yesterday, either."_

 _Carol pulled herself back to the serious conversation. "What's wrong, Ororo?"_

 _"It may be nothing, he may have simply wandered off, and I may surely be overreacting, but I feel we are spread much too thin. Madelyne gone, Longshot unaccounted for, Logan only the goddess knows where…if makes me very uneasy for us to be separated in this manner."_

 _"Well," Carol suggested, "I could probably find Logan easy enough, if it would make you feel better, Ororo."_

 _Storm exhaled loudly. "It would. It is time for him to come home. The X-Men have need of him."_

 _Carol nodded and hopped down from the railing, sparing a regretful sidelong glance at Alex. "I'll leave right away," she said, trying to ignore Alex's eyes on her._

 _"I'll ask Ali if she's seen Longshot," Alex offered, "if she ever gets back here."_

 _Ororo nodded. "I will continue searching. Perhaps I will check with Gateway. He may have seen the boy." With that, Storm returned to the sky._

 _Alex shielded his eyes from the dust cloud created by her launch. "Chatty fellow, that Gateway. I'm sure he'll be a wealth of information." They both laughed, and Alex held his hand out expectantly to Carol again. Her own shaking, she grasped his, and they stood still, two pairs of blue eyes locked in a gaze as firm as their grip. "So," Alex finally asked, "I didn't imagine it?"_

 _"Guess not," Carol swallowed a lump in her throat. "Alex, can we…keep this to ourselves for the moment?" He raised his eyebrows in question. "I mean, just for now, in case it's…a fluke or something. I don't know what this means, and I should probably test it…"_

 _He grinned and ran his thumb along the bare skin on the back of her hand. "Practice makes perfect, Major."_

* * *

 **Chapter Sixteen**

At the knock on my door, I uncurled myself from the brocade covered armchair I had perched near the windows overlooking the grounds. Remy smiled softly at me when I opened it. He looked tired, but freshly scrubbed, his still damp hair pulled up in his little manly version of a bun, and, surprisingly on a Friday night, he was already wearing plaid pajama pants and a broken in Saints' t-shirt.

"Hey," he murmured, his red on black eyes scrutinizing me from head to toe. I sighed a silent thank you to myself for having dressed in my new matching tee and striped lounge pants rather than the ratty, hand-me-down Molson Beer shirt I had been sleeping in lately.

"Hey."

He ran a hand along the sandpaper stubble on his chin. "I just came to see…" he started at the same time I said…

"Do you want to come in?" We both laughed lightly and shifted our feet.

"Yeah," he finally said and I held the door wide. As he strode past me, I peeped down the hall just to make sure nobody was nosing around. The way the mansion worked, even in the midst of a shared tragedy, Gambit spending even a few minutes alone with me in my room would be tomorrow's juiciest gossip. I breathed a sigh of relief at the empty hallway and quietly shut the door and turned, nearly colliding with Remy, who had stopped right behind me. He caught me with gloved hands.

"Just call me Grace," I laughed, but his faced turned somber and he clasped one of my hands, still covered out of habit, in his.

"May I?" he looked up at me from beneath impossibly long lashes. So unfair. Why did guys always end up with eyelashes to die for? My heart did a strange little flip, but I nodded. He gingerly removed my gloves and held each hand closer, inspecting the unmarked skin.

"I'm fine," I smiled up at him reassuringly. "I had Logan's healing factor, remember?"

He shuddered. "Who could forget?" He was right. The horrific sight of foot long bone claws splayed from between my knuckles was liable to give me nightmares for a very long time, though with everything I'd witnessed lately, those claws were gonna have to get in line. I had healed almost instantly once I had been human enough to register that I had to retract them. They had drug me, practically snarling and kicking, back to the mansion and to the Beast, a tactful Logan swearing a blue streak loud enough to finally shake Hank loose from his lab, but I reckon Logan surely already regretted dragging me down there. I was given the once over, but he had become the mad scientist's favorite new lab rat, poked and prodded to within an inch of his patience. I pulled my hand from Remy's and rubbed uncomfortably at my wrist. The ghost feeling of those claws beneath my skin still lurked, but their implications for Logan were unbelievable. If I had produced claws, they were part of his mutation and had been there before the procedure that had coated his bones in indestructible metal. It was a lot for any man to take in.

I gestured to the chair, but Remy flopped down onto my bed, stretching out on his side with his head propped up on one arm. He grinned his Cheshire-cat smile and patted the bed next to him, but I rolled my eyes when I sat cross-legged on the comforter facing him.

"Did you eat anything, chere?" he asked. "I didn't see you come down for supper." I shook my head and he clicked his tongue. "That's a shame, Anna. You missed my world famous etouffee. Nothing like it."

"You cook?

His eyes sparkled. "Oui. Love to cook. It relaxes me. A Southern girl like you don't?"

I laughed but felt my traitor cheeks flare pink. "Not very well. Mystique wasn't real handy in the kitchen, but I bake a mean boysenberry pie."

He grinned. "My favorite. Maybe you can make me one soon."

"How did you get into it? Cooking, I mean. Did your mom or dad teach you?" I was babbling and he raised himself further up on his elbow.

"No, chere. One thing we have in common, never knew my mom or real dad, and my adopted pops was too busy robbing New Orleans blind to teach me how to make a proper roux."

I realized, sadly, that there was a lot I still didn't know about this man. "I'm sorry, I didn't…"

Reached out, he grabbed one of the hands I was wringing in my lap. "S'okay, chere. My pere, Jean-Luc LeBeau, took me in off the streets when I was a pup. Raised me, took care of me, made me part of the Guild, taught me everything he knew. Cooking just wasn't one of those things. Don't remember much before that. Tante Mattie, an older woman who works as the Guild's healer, she spent a good deal of her time raisin' me in her kitchen and taught me all her secrets. She's the closest thing I ever had to a mother."

"Do you get back to see them often?" He winced and I wished I could take my question back. I couldn't seem to keep my big mouth shut. "Never mind," I said hastily and pried my hand from his. "It's none of my business, sugar."

He rested his hand on my knee instead and blew out a deep breath. "No, it's okay." His thumb started tracing circles on my knee cap, making it very hard to listen to the seriousness of his low, silky voice. "Can't really go home, chere. De Guild exiled me from the Big Easy." My idiot mouth nearly asked 'why' before I bit my lip and stopped myself, though Remy had seen the curiosity flicker across my face. "I killed my brother-in-law." His voice dropped to a thick whisper and I placed my hand over his on my knee. "My wife, Bella Donna Boudreaux, we grew up together, like you and your friend Cody. I was raised in the Thieves' Guild, her father was the leader of the Assassins' Guild. The Thieves' rivals in case you couldn't guess, a bitter feud has been raging between the two for centuries. Some high muckety-muck thought of a plan to bring about peace, by marrying one thief and one assassin."

My mouth formed a silent 'o' and he nodded, his face strained. "My brother-in-law, Julien, didn't think too highly of me, which was okay because I didn't think too highly of him, neither, but right after Belle and I said our I Dos he challenged me to a duel. I won. To keep the shaky peace, I was banished." I wanted to ask why she didn't go with him, to ask if he still loved her, but I was a coward. "We were just kids," he murmured, "playing at being adults. It was too much for her to handle. After that, I wandered around the world for a few years, got into a lot of trouble, but then life got better when I met Stormy." I knew the rest of their story, had read all about the death of Bella Donna thanks to a New Orleans tangle with the alien Brood, and my heart ached for him. "Enough about me. Tell me, how does a girl raised by a gun-toting terrorist end up as one of Xavier's favorite students?"

I snorted, but Remy patted the bed again and I stretched out beside him and balled up a pillow under my head. "Because I'm an idiot." His eyebrows knitted together in question. "I thought they, Raven and my other foster mother Irene Adler, I thought they cared about me, I thought they loved me. They had taken me in after what I had done to Cody, raised me, but their life was nothing but a big ol' lie. They wanted a better world for all mutants, but were willing to take any means necessary to make that happen. They revived the Brotherhood and trained me, convinced me that what they were doin' was right. I was stupid, brash…" Remy reached out and brushed a tear from my cheek that I hadn't even realized I had shed. "Irene and some of the Brotherhood's other members had been captured, and Mystique planned a jailbreak. I went to borrow Carol's powers. The real Ms. Marvel had officially retired from being a superhero and was living the quiet life in San Francisco. I caught her outside her flat with her arms full of groceries…" My eyes flashed to his. "I've never fought someone so hard in my life. I wanted her dead, and after all these years, after all the madness and misery, she's finally gone…Warren was right, Betsy, too. I'm a monster. I deserved my punishment. My stupidity ruined both of our lives."

He enveloped me in his arms and I set about soaking another of his shirts with lousy tears while he breathed into my hair. He brought my face up to his and wiped the tears away with his thumb, his too close body still setting off alarm bells even though I had a fleeting grip on my powers. My heart pounded wildly and a pleasant warmth spread through me at the hungry look in his eyes. He leaned in and brushed his lips against mine as light as a feather. Testing the waters, he rained a shower of kisses on my cheeks, my forehead, my eyelids. When I didn't slap him away or drain him dry, his lips found mine again, softly at first, tentative, but when I responded his passion ignited. I was scared, worried I wouldn't be able to keep control when my head was swimming from the feeling of his searing skin against mine, but every nerve tingled for more. I slowly traced the strong line of his jaw, his cheekbone, delighting in the feel of the rough stubble against his smooth skin, the heat beneath my fingertips. He smiled and pulled off his gloves to caress my cheek.

"Anna," his voice was a husky whisper that made my breath catch in my throat. "We can take this slow, chere. We don't have to do anything you don't want to do." I swallowed hard and brought his lips back to mine. I was dizzy, my head spinning with his smell and the taste of his breath. His hands slid down my arms to find the sliver of exposed skin on my back between my t-shirt and pants, the sensation of his touch sending wonderfully terrified goosebumps up the length of me. He moaned against my mouth and moved his kisses to my neck, his fingers trailing up the small of my back in slow circles.

I vaguely wondered if I should stop him, but the decision was made for me when the wooden door of my room exploded inward in a blast of fiery white heat. Remy grabbed me and rolled the both of us off the back side of the bed and onto the floor with a thud, coming up on his knees with a handful of charged cards at the ready. Before I could even begin to wonder where he had been hiding those, a familiar voice echoed through the smoky room.

"Get your slimy hands off of my wife, Cajun." Alex Summers stood in my doorway, his face contorted in rage. My breathing stopped and the world around me pitched at uneven angles. What had he just said? I tried to get up, but Remy stood instead and pushed me protectively to the ground beside him.

" _Ex_ -wife," Gambit's eyes glinted dangerously. "I don't mean to sound crass, but as you well know, your Carol Danvers don't live here no more."

Through the haze of charred wood, the outline of Havok began to take on more detail until my eyes started swimming worrisome on the edges. Alex raised a fired-up hand full of his cosmic mutant power. "Back off, Gambit. Don't make me hurt you." Alex's face shattered as his eyes caught mine, but his stare made my breathing come in great gasping hitches. "I know Carol's gone. I just need to talk to Rogue…just want her to understand..."

Wife, he had said. Ex-wife. Jesus H. Christ. Mystique's words screamed in my ears. What else _had_ they been keeping from me?

I did what any good Southern girl would do, and swooned into a dead faint on the floor.


	17. Chapter 17

All characters owned by Marvel Comics

Author's notes: So, another chapter that I sort of agonized over, finally just had to post it or I would edit it forever. Hopefully the finished product is true enough to the characters while still being sensitive enough to the situation I created for them. Good or bad, let me know what you think.

This interlude stands in place of Uncanny X-Men #244

* * *

 **Interlude: Does a Mall Babe Eat Chili Fries?**

 _Three years, six months before…_

 _"We've been over this before, Ororo. The nature of their intertwined psyches has always made reading Rogue extremely difficult. Even Charles Xavier was unable to penetrate the haze that we have always attributed to Carol. The best I have been able to surmise, Rogue retreated to the lower depths of her subconscious and there she remains."_

 _Storm regarded the purple-haired British telepath carefully before turning her attention to a woman who was feeling more and more comfortable in a body not her own. "She gave us no indication that you existed this fully within her mind. How long have you suspected that you could assume this level of control?"_

 _Carol swallowed the lump in her throat and shrugged. "I guess since our…resurrection, thanks to Roma. I could hear and feel more fully the things she was experiencing, what hurt her hurt me, and I didn't like it..." Ororo frowned, and thunder, rarely heard in this part of Australia, growled angry and low over the sky. "The Genoshans got a little...fresh. Rogue suddenly found herself out of control, completely and utterly at someone else's mercy…"_

 _"So, because of this she allowed you to take over her body? Forgive me if I am still having difficulty believing what you are saying. I do not understand why she would do such a thing, and continue to allow you to remain in control after so much time has passed. In all the years I have known her, I have never seen the girl simply give up."_

 _Psylocke lightly touched Storm's shoulder. "Some wounds cut too deep. Rogue needs time to heal, Ororo."_

 _Storm shrugged away from her touch and drew herself to her fully impressive height. "You cannot keep her locked away forever, Carol, cannot allow her to hide from her pain. It has been months, and the sooner she is able to confront her demons..." Ororo shook her head in frustration. "I still cannot believe she would…"_

 _"Is it any wonder, boss? Given the life we lead?" Alison Blaire, the pop singer turned reluctant superhero, spread her hands wide and gestured to Carol's newly remodeled apartment, its once cozy, country chic transformed into an ultra-modern nightmare. "That is, if you call this living? What was the point of our resurrection when this town is becoming our grave?"_

 _Storm raised an eyebrow above crystal blue orbs. "I assume, therefore, Alison, you have a solution?"_

 _The lightengale smiled broadly. "You bet! We need to cut loose, to relax, to take an evening off to get everybody's head straight! To do something utterly and completely normal! Let's go shopping!" Storm allowed Alison the change in subject, and allowed herself a smile. The group exited the apartment, Ali and Betsy heading for their own to prepare themselves._

 _Ororo hung back, and sternly grasped Carol's arm. "This will not be the end, Carol. I will not give up on her. Perhaps, for now, as Elisabeth suggests, we shall give her the space she seems to need, but I will not let her go of Rogue so easily. The two of you must strike a balance for the good of the team and for the good of yourselves. If you are able to reach her within the depths of your shared space, let her know how much she means to us, that we are here for her when she is ready. Unfortunately, though it pains me to say, life must move on, it seems without her."_

* * *

 **Chapter Seventeen**

"Can we talk? _Please_ …"

Alex's intrusion into the Danger Room froze the holographic training session I had been running. Just a simple self-defense program Logan had set up for me, but if felt good to move, to hit something, and it gave me an excuse to stay the hell away from everybody I didn't want to see right then. The routine took me to a different place, distracted me, it almost felt normal, and then he showed up, reminding me how screwed up everything still was.

I was sick to death of being lied to by people I trusted, people who I thought were my friends. Remy, Logan, Jean, Bobby, Ororo, the Professor…they had kept so much from me supposedly for my own protection, but I just kept getting hurt over and over. Was there more?

Alex had _married_ Carol. What I had wanted, my hopes and dreams and desires, had meant nothing to them. Mr. and Mrs. Summers had swept me under the rug without so much as a by your leave. I knew Carol hated me for what I had done to her, but this was so far beyond cruel, so outrageously unfathomable that I couldn't even process it. When I tried to think it through, to apply reason or logic or sense, I ran straight into a big brick wall of pain. How could they do this to me? They had obviously had sex, using my body, taking my virginity, but it was so much worse than that. Don't misunderstand me, I was furious at what had been done to me while I wasn't in control, but my rage was about more than the deed itself. It wasn't like I didn't have an idea what sex felt like; I had experienced it more than a few times through those I had absorbed in the past. I knew it made folks uncomfortable to hear things like that, it was easier for them to paint me as utterly naïve when it came to physical intimacy than to try and wrap their heads around what I did to people. There were few who wanted to admit just how much I took from those I used my mutant abilities on, and it was just more palatable to see me as an innocent than to acknowledge the horrible reality of my powers. The truth? I felt what my victims felt when I relived their memories, the good, the bad, and the ugly. I took their lives from them, not as voyeur but participant. I knew it wasn't the real thing, far from it, and yes, obviously, I had wanted it for myself, at times desperately, but that desire wasn't what was currently kicking me in the teeth. I was so livid I was shaking at what Carol and Alex had taken from me, the abuses they had put my body through, but marriage? For most folks, that meant love, and that love was what had been haunting me the last few hours. A marriage, a life together, had meant an intimacy between them that was on a whole different level. Casual touches, hugs, caresses, the little things that I had never been able to have, these were what had drowned me in loneliness and despair in my worst moments. Had there been children? Was I a mother and still didn't know it? My triumph at the newfound grip on my powers seemed short lived.

I nearly threw up at the sick anguish that rippled up my body, but I grabbed hold of the anger and used it to focus. I wanted to cry and scream, to spit in his face, but instead I bared my teeth at him. " _We_ don't need to do anything. There is no we." I tried to walk past him to the exit, but he grabbed my arm. I ripped it from his grasp. "Don't touch me," I warned.

He spread his hands wide. "I just want to talk."

I scowled and crossed my arms under my chest, clenching my hands into fists to keep them steady. This man had once been my friend, my teammate, but he had taken advantage of my body, had made a big choice for me when I hadn't been there to decide it for myself. I nearly decked him, but curiosity halted me in my tracks. I wanted answers that no one else seemed to be willing to give. How could something like this have happened? Would he actually tell me the truth? I wasn't sure, but decided I would give him five minutes before I walked out that door. "So. Talk."

His face twisted in confusion. "What, here?" I tilted my head and arched an eyebrow at him, my patience long gone. Even after all of these months, I was still the last one to know details of my own life, Carol's life. My friends, if that's what they really were, had caused so much damage to my heart and soul by keeping me in the dark. "But, it's the Danger Room. It's cold, and we're standing…"

I wasn't about to go anywhere else alone with him, he was lucky I hadn't punched him in the face or kneed other important areas for what I imagined he had done with my body while I wasn't in it. I swallowed my rage and plopped down onto the floor of the Danger Room, tucking my legs under me. "So. Sit."

He sighed and ran an exasperated hand through his hair, but sat down across from me, resting his elbows on his knees. He looked worn, beaten, so much older than I remembered, and stared at me numbly for a few heartbeats until I held out a hand to prod him along. "I don't even know where to start," he shook his head and I felt the slightest twinge of pity for him in that moment, but I locked it down. He had _used_ me, I told myself. He didn't deserve my pity.

"The beginning is typically where you start, sugar." My wry smile earned me a bitter laugh from Alex.

"Right. The beginning." He exhaled loudly and the air blew his blonde hair off of his forehead. "Okay. The beginning. You never came back from Genosha. The X-Men had a few big battles, Madelyne went to the dark side and died, and through it all, I got to know Carol. She saved my life a couple times, I saved hers." I focused on my hands in my lap rather than watch his face, but his voice was heavy. "We clicked right away. Carol, she was fun, one of the guys. It felt like I had known her all my life. Rogue," The shift in his speech made me meet his eyes. "You're a beautiful girl, but you always kept everybody at arm's length. I hardly got to know you even though we were teammates for a long time." He held my gaze with an intensity that bottomed out my stomach until I flinched away. "After the fall of Genosha, she stayed with me to help rebuild."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Obligation? Duty? She liked the challenge, building something with her hands." He looked at where I was still wringing mine in my lap. "Your hands, I guess."

I took a deep breath to keep from screaming at him. "Go on."

"We made a good team, got a lot accomplished. But, we were just friends. And it stayed that way, until…" The catch in his voice made my heart skip a confused beat. "Until Logan killed Lorna." The loss, the pain, was still evident all these years later, and though I knew I wasn't entirely to blame, he had lost another love when Carol had passed. "I was a mess, and she…she helped me through it."

He reached for my hands. I wanted to snatch them away, to slap him, but I counted to ten before I did anything. I wanted to hear the whole story before I decided how pissed off I was gonna be, because let me tell you, I was pretty goddamned furious. It was taking everything I had not to beat the living hell out of him right then and there.

"It was a whirlwind. We fell in love, got married. Looking back now, it was all too fast. It was good, until it wasn't. The strain of our way of life started showing. We separated, and then I went with Scottie and X-Force. She didn't agree with my brother's version of Xavier's dream, and told me if I went with him, I shouldn't come home."

I almost couldn't get the words past my lips, but I had to know. "Did she…are there any children?"

His face shattered. "No, Rogue," he said softly. "We…there was never any time, and then everything with Scott…That was the last time I saw her. We were arguing about _him_. I made my choice, figured we'd straighten things out later, when we weren't both so angry, but then she served me with divorce papers. I was so hurt that I just signed. It was so stupid, but she was so…something you two have in common, you're both so goddamned stubborn…" His voice broke. "I loved her, and I threw it all away, and now she's...gone. I can't believe she's just gone..." He choked back a sob and bent his head, my hands still in his. "Rogue, I just need you to understand…"

My control cracked and the rage poured over me in a hot slide. I wouldn't let myself fall for it, for his forlorn Boy Scout routine, I was too enraged, too wounded, this betrayal ran too deep. I tore my hands from his grasp and stood over him, letting it all scream out of me. He wasn't the only one I was angry with, but he was the best target, so I heaved it all onto his plate. "Understand what? That you used my body, took your pleasure from it, whether it was what I wanted or not?" He winced. "I thought we were friends, but you used my body like I was some…some...I had never been with anyone before, Alex! Did you know that?! You took that away from me!"

He jumped up and reached out for me, but I recoiled. "It wasn't like that. I loved you…"

"You _loved_ me?! You loved _her_. I was an afterthought!"

His face reddened and his voice rose to a fevered pitch. Strong hands grabbed ahold of my shoulders and shook me. "You're wrong! She thought about you, more than you'll ever know. This situation wasn't her doing, it wasn't her fault she was stuck in your body! What did you expect her to do? Live the rest of her life like a nun, never touching anyone, never loving anyone? That was your way, not hers!" I glared at him with eyes full of murder, but he erupted. "Don't look at me like… like I…don't turn my love into something hateful and twisted! You're not the only one hurting here! I loved Carol and she loved me, and yes, I'm _sorry_ that she was in your body at the time, but what were we supposed to do? You were gone, we thought forever, and she was locked inside you like a cage! If I had known you were still...I wouldn't have...God, this is so fucked up…!" He switched his hands to my face and his voice dropped to a throaty whisper. "I'm _sorry_ that I hurt you, you have to understand that, but do you have any idea what this is like for me? I didn't think this would be so hard, I look at you and I see the face of the woman I love, and I can't kiss you, or hold you, and you're looking at me like I'm disgusting, like I…" My face fell. I was so outraged at his betrayal of my trust, but I was so confused, didn't know if I could demonize him when fate had dealt us all a painfully lousy hand. I just couldn't deal with him or his feelings. "I'm not a monster, Rogue." He let go of my face and stepped away from me hastily, like my skin had burned him. "You have no idea how sorry I am. I never meant to hurt you." His pleading eyes begged me to say something, anything, but instead I spun on my heels and stormed out the door.

Alex Summers and his apparently undying love for my body were the last straw. I was _done_. No more lies, no more manipulations. I marched straight to my room in a furious haze, intent on getting the hell out of dodge, but skidded to a startled stop in the hallway. Logan, dressed in his uniform of flannel and denim, drill in hand, was nearly finished hanging a big ol' piece of plywood as a makeshift door outside my damaged bedroom.

"Don't worry," he growled through a mouthful of screws, "I'll head to the hardware store in the morning for a real one." Logan turned around and finally took a good look at me. "Rogue," at the expression on my face he stepped towards me in alarm, but I shoved my way under his arms and through the still charred entryway without a word. I tore open the closet and grabbed my suitcase, barely unpacked from my last trip, and started throwing everything into it that I could lay my hands on. Logan leaned heavily on the doorjamb and watched. "Goin' somewhere, darlin'?"

I didn't look up. "Away," I snarled, though my voice was on the verge of cracking.

He walked further into the room and got in my way as I headed for the dresser. "Runnin' away, you mean?" I shouldered past him and ripped open a drawer. Sad thing was, I didn't have that much to pack. My whole life was gonna fit into that suitcase if I shoved hard enough. I gathered a whole armload of hand-me-down clothes and avoided his eyes. "Hey," he grabbed my arm and I wrenched it from his grasp.

"Don't touch me!" His face blurred in front of me in a wash of tears, but I bit the inside of my cheek hard to get them to stop. I would give anything to not feel this right now, to be so numb that I could run on autopilot, but I was so upset and tangled that I didn't know what to do. All I knew was I had to get out of there. I stepped into the bathroom and slammed the door, stripped off my uniform and stepped into civilian clothes. I couldn't stand to even look at anybody, to know they had lied to me, kept lying to me, all the while smiling, pretending that they cared…

Logan dropped his hands to his sides and I deposited the last of my belongings into my suitcase. I leaned my weight on it to get the zipper closed, but I got it, by God, and flopped it onto the floor with a mighty thunk.

"Where ya' goin', Rogue?" His voice was quiet, calm.

I ran a shaky hand through my hair. "Told you. Away." I started dragging the heavy ass case across the carpet.

"How ya' gettin' there?" I stopped and he crossed his arms over his flannel covered chest. Well, fuck. I didn't have a car of my own. I had money, if I could get to the bank, which in Podunk Salem Center was closed at this time of night. I had a few hundred dollars stuffed into my wallet, but no credit cards. I did a quick mental calculation. I had enough for bus fare the hell out of Salem Center, and before that, enough to catch a cab to the station.

I stuck my chin out defiantly. "Greyhound." When I went back to tugging on my bag, Logan jumped in front of me and wrestled the handle from me.

"I'll drive you," was all he said and heaved the bag up off the floor and down the stairs.

I took a quick, confused look around at the place I'd barely begun to call home again to see if I had forgotten anything. My heart twisted in my chest and my stomach flipped uneasily. Life with the X-Men was what I knew best. Was I making the right choice here? Remy's face floated into my mind. I had been avoidin' him since what had happened with Alex, and now I was sneakin' out with my tail between my legs. Kind of low of me to not at least say goodbye, but kind of low of him to keep up the sham along with everyone else. I had thought we had something, a spark, but I felt it flaming out, low and angry. Truthfully, I wasn't feeling real charitable towards any of them at the moment. I was sick to death of the excuses, of what everybody thought was best for me. I hurried after Logan, thankful I didn't meet anyone in the hall on my way out.

He chucked my suitcase into the back of his rough, old jeep and we took off down Graymalkin Lane. In the dim light shining from the dash I could see how tense his jaw was, how hard he gripped the steering wheel. Papa Logan had a lecture brewing. I knew driving me was just an opportunity for him to try and talk me out of bailing, but I was out of options.

He looked like he had finally worked it out in his head, and turned his chin to me. "You want a beer?"

Not what I had expected him to say. "What?"

"I'm buyin'." He turned the jeep towards Salem Center.

"Logan!" God damn him. Stalling. Oldest trick in the book and I had fallen for it. We were pulling into the parking lot of Harry's Hideaway before I could even begin to argue. Harry's was a warm old dive that had served as a second home for most of Xavier's students and it was almost a welcome sight, but I crossed my arms and dug down into my seat, ready to put up a fight.

"Don't pout, darlin'. Your face'll freeze that way." I didn't laugh and glared at him, but his expression softened. "Come on, Rogue. One beer won't kill you. For old time's sake."

When we walked in the front door, the smell of freshly cut wood and new paint greeted my nose. The inside of Harry's had been recently renovated, though the old charm still existed. He headed for the bar to get our brews while I walked through and slid into every X-Man's favorite booth, way in the back by the pool table.

"When did Harry remodel?" I asked when he returned a few minutes later. I left my jacket on but settled in. Logan took the side of the booth facing the entrance. I'd give him his one beer, I owed him that much considering how many times he had saved me and my ass. If I small talked the bejesus out of him, I would maybe even avoid the rest of the lecture he had planned.

"Not quite a year ago. We actually fixed up the place, but it was the X-Men's fault. Harry's took a little collateral damage when Caliban kidnapped Jean and…Scott." It was the first time I had heard him mention Scott's name and his lip curled in disgust, but I scowled at him over my first swig. He took a long pull and wiped his hand on the back of his mouth. "Rogue…" he started, but I smiled a tight smile and cut him off.

"How did it feel today, bein' Hank's guinea pig?"

"Rogue."

I kept at it, ignorin' the hardening of his voice. "It's crazy to think that your claws were a part of you to begin with…"

"Rogue." My name came out as a growl and I met his eyes. "We need to talk, darlin'."

I leaned back into the booth and fiddled with the label on my bottle. I was still wearing gloves, wasn't sure if I could handle bare skin in public yet, it was all so new and overwhelming. I was too suspicious to believe that Mystique had been the abracadabra fix for my uncontrollable power, and sure didn't want to lose my focus and have an accidental absorption. I lowered my eyes and my voice. "I'm real sick of everybody tellin' me what I need, and then lyin' to my face." He blanched. "I really didn't want to have this out with you, but if you insist…I thought we were friends, more than that, you were my family. How could you lie to me like that, you of all people! You know how painful it can be to be missing pieces of your past! How could you not tell me I'm… _married_?"

"You're not married. Carol was, and then she wasn't." He leaned forward and grabbed for my hand, but I yanked it away and crossed my arms over my chest. "Not tellin' you wasn't my idea, darlin'. I got overruled, but Chuck thought it would be better to wait 'til you had progressed further in your therapy sessions with him, 'til you were stronger…"

"'Til I was stronger!? This is my life we're talkin' about here, my body, and I feel like I've been the last one to know…I should have been told everything up front! Y'all should have just come right out with it. All these lies, all these manipulations have just made it a bigger, more painful mess!"

"The timing was goddamn lousy, darlin', and I know this thing with Alex didn't come out how Chuck hoped it would, but do you really think you would have been able to handle all of this when you first woke up? Think about it, darlin', how hurt and broken and scared you were, then throw this garbage on top? You were a wreck and Charley thought it could break you, cause more harm than good! You know that man has your best interests at heart. I don't always agree with him, but…"

I jabbed an angry finger at him. " _You_ should have just told me! We've always been straight with each other!"

"I wanted to, but Chuck…"

"Doesn't matter! You, Bobby, Ororo, Remy…you all lied to me! How am I supposed to trust anything any of you say to me?"

He inclined his head and his blue eyes softened. "You really care about the Cajun, don't you?"

I flinched. It had been hard enough to say Gambit's name out loud, the last thing I wanted was to talk about him with Logan, especially when the thought of him made my head spin. "Don't change the subject."

His arm was quick and he managed to snatch my hand in his this time. "Listen to me. This whole situation is fucked up. There's no playbook on how to handle somethin' like this. But runnin' away ain't gonna solve anything. No matter how pissed you want to stay at us, no matter how far away you go, we _are_ your family. Nobody wanted to cause you any more pain. How could we dump this on you when you were so wounded? Even after I woke up, your body was still so damn broken! It was hard enough just to watch you move you were in so much pain, but that stubborn Rogue spark was still in those green eyes, you were still fightin'. How could I have drowned it with something like this? How much more 'til you just went belly up and quit? We weren't exactly under orders from Chuck, but we got a lot of lectures on letting you heal to rebuild your emotional and mental stability or some other crap before he sat you down and told you the rest of Carol's story. Lot of us argued against keeping it from you, Gambit included." He squeezed my hand so hard I felt the bones grind together. "Can't believe I'm sayin' this, but don't be too hard on the Cajun. I think he actually cares about you, and I think you're good for him. He's been actin' more like a grownup since you been around." My mouth twitched in an involuntary smile and Logan winked at me. "I like seein' you blush when you talk about him, too."

I brought our hands down onto the table and stuck my tongue out at him. "Asshole."

He closed his other burly paw over mine. "Knew you couldn't stay mad at me for long, darlin'."

"Keep it up and I may try harder." He laughed out loud and chugged the rest of his beer in one long drink. The waitress brought him another the instant he set the empty at the edge of the booth. Benefits of being a regular customer.

"Can we try again, Rogue?"

I lifted my first bottle, the tight fist of anger around my heart relaxing its grip. "Isn't that what Xavier's is about, sugar? Second chances. As many as the Prof has given me, I probably owe him one."

"You ready to go home?"

I eyed his full glass thoughtfully. "No need to be in a hurry. You just got a beer."

He grinned over my shoulder. "I'm stayin'. I put a phone call in when we first got here, thinkin' maybe you got a better option."

I turned to follow his gaze, and my eyes found Remy LeBeau gliding though the sea of townies and college kids, so out of place handsome he could have been steppin' straight from the cover of a magazine. The fire in his eyes struck a spark inside me and I had to look away, reminding myself of how furious I still was at him.

"Anna, chere," his low voice was an uncertain plea when he reached us, but Logan's eyebrows shot up to his hairline over his beer.

" _Anna?"_ He mouthed silently. Logan never was up on the mansion gossip.

"Was hoping we could talk." There was that word again. Talk. A lot of grief had been coming my way thanks to that four letter word. I opened my mouth, prepared to chew him out, but Logan silenced me with a look.

"I'll take your stuff home. You kids have a good time." I sat there, sputtering, with my mouth hangin' open, but Logan got up and hauled me to my feet, shuffling me towards Gambit. "Have her home by curfew, Gumbo." Gambit bowed slightly and offered his arm, but I stomped past him and out the door into the crisp night air.

I zipped my jacket and stuffed my hands into the pockets. "Where are you parked?" He pointed to a Harley propped next to the sidewalk. The sight of that motorcycle melted my frozen heart a little bit, as the thought of flying on the back of it with the stars spread above us and the wind whipping through my hair held a certain appeal. In the light pooling from the street lamps, he caught sight of me mooning over his bike.

"You wan' go for a ride, chere?"

I sauntered towards it. "Wouldn't be a bad idea…if you want to talk, I mean. The mansion has mighty sharp ears."

A slow smile spread across his face. "I know just the place."

Outside the city he opened the throttle and I wrapped my arms around him, burying my face in the smell of his leather jacket. I didn't know if I could forgive him yet, but I didn't know if I had a right to punish him for my mess, either. He hadn't asked to be pulled into all of this. I was just some girl he had been flirting with and then it had gone and gotten serious, and seriously complicated, more so than anybody could have dreamed. We had barely gotten to know each other before the rug had been yanked out from under us. If I owed Charley Xavier the chance to explain himself, I owed Remy LeBeau the same courtesy.

In the hills surrounding Salem Center, he pulled the bike into a park with a scenic overlook and cut the engine. The distant lights of the sleepy hamlet spread out like a blanket below us, eclipsed by the dazzling brilliance of the stars above. Remy slid off the bike and sat back down facing me. I should have been tired after such an emotionally draining day, but the smell of the outdoors had given me a second wind, though the chill was creeping into my bones after pulling myself away from the warmth of his body. The anger pulsing below the surface of my skin had dulled to a throbbing ache. I wanted to hear him out, I wanted him to make it better, to tell me everything was going to be okay. In his arms, I almost believed it would be, and the thought made me tremble.

He grabbed my shaking hands. "You cold?"

"No, I'm all right…"

He rubbed my hands between his. "Merde, this was a stupid idea. I can't seem to stop making the wrong moves when it comes to you…usually I know just what to say, just what to do, but you turn me inside out, twist me around in my head so much I don't know which way is up. I'm so sorry, girl, for everythin', for what I said, for what I didn't. Tell me what to do and I'll do it, I'll do anything to take your pain away."

I kept my eyes on our hands locked together on the seat of his bike between us. "I like you, Remy. A lot. And it's been…a long time since anybody made me feel the way you do."

"I feel the same."

"I wanted to see where this….whatever this is between us…would lead, but I'll tell you, Remy, I've been lied to, been manipulated by those who I thought loved me…" He opened his mouth but I covered it with my hand. "I know this is a crazy situation, and that everybody was just looking out for me, but all I'm askin' is for you to be straight with me. If you can't, if that's too hard for you to do, then let's have an end to this now, cause, let me tell you, Remy LeBeau, I don't think I'd survive having my heart broken by you."

He took both my hands and pulled the gloves off slowly. He watched my eyes and placed my bare palms against the warmth of his cheeks, the rough feel of his stubble brushing my skin. "No more secrets. You can take it all, every thought, every memory I ever had, if that's what it takes to make this right between us."

The thought of knowing everything about this mysterious man was as tempting as Eve offering Adam the apple, but I knew if I did, if I pulled his mind inside me, I'd be taking the easy way out, cheating myself out of the thrill that would come from getting to know him step by step. It would be worth the wait, I realized, every tear shed, every misstep, every laugh, every brush of his lips on mine.

I leaned forward on the seat. "I appreciate the offer, sugar, but if it's all right by you, I think I'd like to get to know you the old-fashioned way."

I drew his bewildered face to mine and let his warm lips chase away the chill of the night.


	18. Chapter 18

All characters owned by Marvel Comics

Author's notes: Another tough one, but hopefully this chapter is ultimately as satisfying to read as it was to write.

This interlude takes place just after Uncanny X-Men #238 and sheds a little light on Betsy's motivations. Thanks again for reading!

* * *

 **Interlude: Uneasy Inspiration**

 _Four years before…_

 _The team marched through Gateway's portal and quickly dispersed, the usually rambunctious group oddly quiet, their minds surely heavy with all they had witnessed in the tiny island nation that until today had seemed the envy of the world. It had been a long day, and for one of them, it was shaping up to be an even longer night._

 _Carol sighed and stepped to the edge of the rocky outcropping that served as the weathered Aborigine's chosen perch, listening to her new teammates' dusty steps as they kicked down the craggy slope. The setting sun was a deep red, burning hot in its intensity even this late in the day, but after so many years of second hand feelings, she closed her eyes and let it bake her._

 _"Ace, you comin'?" Logan had paused at a slant, his skin still healing beneath the tattered remnants of the Genoshan magistrate's uniform hanging in loose strips from his shoulders._

 _Taking a deep breath and plastering a smile on a face that wasn't hers, Carol looked over her shoulder at her burly companion. "Yeah, I'll just be a minute."_

 _He grinned and saluted. "I'll pour you a cold one, Major."_

 _She saluted back and returned to watching the sunset, angrily wiping the tears that slid in great salty tracks down her cheeks. "Fuck," she hissed, digging the heels of her palms into her eyes, belatedly remembering she wasn't alone. "Excuse the language, chum." The ancient Aborigine known only as Gateway didn't even glance in her direction, the wizened man remaining mute in his stony vigil. "Sorry," she muttered, "forgot you were more of the strong, silent type." She knelt beside him, staring holes into the side of his unflinching face. "You just sit and take it all in, don't you, old man? Bound to this place, to this land. We've got a lot in common. We're both prisoners." She picked up a rock slightly larger than her fist and stood. "Nobody ever said life was fair…" She threw it, her superstrength sending it skyrocketing in a trail of flames through the lower atmosphere._

 _"Carol?"_

 _Composing herself, Carol turned to the voice. "Betsy, right?"_

 _"Yes. I am sorry if I am intruding, but…" the lavender haired Brit stepped forward, lifting her cloak from the dusty ground. "…I wanted to check on you, to see if you were all right…"_

 _Carol crossed her arms and choked down a lion's roar of rage. "Do I look like I'm all right!?"_

 _Elisabeth Braddock lowered her hood and smoothed the wayward purple hairs that had fallen into her grief stricken face. "That is the problem. I really did not need to ask if you were all right, I know you are not, your emotions are running railroad over my defenses! Your mind is screaming inside mine...it should not be possible, yet I cannot shut you out. Your…anger, your fear…frankly, they should not be. You should not be! Rogue's mind…"_

 _Blue eyes flashed. "I am NOT Rogue."_

 _Elisabeth stopped her approach. "So it would seem," she acknowledged. "but, I do not understand how this has happened. I have never sensed you before today, yet here you are, a fully realized, separate psyche, capable of assuming control of the body you reside in."_

 _"Reside in?" Carol spat. "That's a sanitized way of putting it. The girl murdered me, pre-meditated murder mind you, stole my mind and memories, yet I'm the one who's punished, imprisoned. I get to watch the world whirl by from behind eyes that'll never be my own, while she's free and clear. Where's the justice in that?" She stalked towards Psylocke. "She plays the hero, while I rot in a landscape of shadows and faded memories!"_

 _"Watch the world?" Psylocke's eyes widened in shock. "Have you been aware of events occurring outside of her body this entire time?"_

 _Carol fumed and ran a hand through the mop of auburn hair decorated with a stripe of white that sat atop their shared head. "Off and on…gotten stronger, more frequent, ever since we went through the Siege Perilous in Dallas. You've no idea what it's like…what I've been through…how long it's been since I felt…anything…" She tipped her head back and inhaled deeply, the warm breeze playing over her skin. "It's so unfair…and I can feel her, ready to take control, to take it all away from me again…I'm so afraid to close these eyes, because any time now, I won't be the one opening them again…"_

 _Elisabeth laid a gloved hand on Carol's shoulder. "Surely, the two of you can…"_

 _She angrily shrugged off the gentle hand. "What…cooperate? Work it out? Maybe joint custody? I'm not greedy, just every other weekend, a couple of weeks in the summer…hell, I'd take just one night, one lousy night to be free, to feel the wind in my hair , the sand under my feet…to eat and drink what I wanted, to dance 'til dawn…but that's never going to happen. There's nothing anyone can do for me. She's pretending to be the hero, and I'm just a memory…" She stalked off the rock, leaving Elisabeth with an uneasy inspiration._

 _"Nothing anyone can do? I am not so certain of that anymore."_

 _The night passed in a wonderful blur of raucous laughter, lukewarm brews, and feet blistering dances, of getting acquainted with people she only knew from behind the haze of someone else's subconscious._

 _Alison Blaire, the Dazzler, one of her favorite singers in her own life, belted out some of her greatest hits from atop the battered bar of the town's pub, while Alex Summers, the man called Havok, swung Carol easily around the establishment's rickety dance floor. It felt good, felt so nice, the feeling of strong arms around her, but it was over much too soon, all look but don't touch._

 _She was one of the last to stumble to bed for the night, not wanting it to end, but superstrength and invulnerability didn't make one immune to sleep, and the events of the last few days had finally caught up to their shared body._

 _Carol's heavy head hit the pillow despite her best efforts against it, and in the next instant her eyes snapped open in a memory of a windswept beach, the smell of the salty sea air filling her nostrils, the sound of the ocean calling her home. She knew the landscape in an instant and turned her eyes landward, scanning the grassy dunes for the clapboard façade of the Danvers' Cape Cod vacation home._

 _"Time's up, sugar."_

 _She whipped around to find the image of Rogue, clad in a full-length black bodysuit, her arms indignantly crossed, standing nearby in the sand._

 _Brushing back the hair that had fallen into her face, Carol stared at her own straight blonde locks slipping between her imaginary fingers. "So, that's it then? I save you, save us, and I'm just supposed to go back to how it was before?"_

 _"What did you expect?" The girl's sharp green eyes flashed straight through Carol and she could feel herself losing control, losing feeling, fading back into the shadows, but she gritted her teeth and dug in her heels._

 _"A little gratitude? A little understanding? Especially after you've seen what it's like for me. How can you send me back there after what you did to me?"_

 _Rogue's face paled. "After what I did? Carol, it was an accident, you know that better than anyone…I didn't know the extent of my powers…"_

 _"An accident!?" Airborne, Carol lunged for her, her hands balled into angry fists, sending Rogue backsliding through the slippery sand. "You took everything I ever had! Everything I ever was!"_

 _Rogue seized her wrists, ferocious tears streaming down both women's faces. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to do it…"_

 _Carol wrenched her hands free. "Sorry doesn't give me back my life!"_

 _"I can't just….AHHHHHH….!" Rogue doubled over in agony, clutching both sides of her head, and crumpled to the sand in a lifeless heap._

 _"Rogue!" Carol stood over her, shocked, as the astral form of Psylocke emerged from behind one of the windswept dunes. "What did you do!?" Carol shrieked._

 _"What I felt was right," the British mutant calmly replied._

 _Rogue's limp form began to sink into the soft sand, the black bodysuit disappearing beneath the shifting ground. A horrified Carol dropped to her knees, frantically scooping handfuls of the dirt away, but it filled around the girl faster and faster. Soon, only Rogue's face was visible through the white grains._

 _"Are you doing this!?" she screamed the question._

 _"We're doing this," Betsy's voice held no emotion, no empathy as she stood over the vanishing Rogue. "Years ago, Roma chose my brother Brian to assume the mantle of Captain Britain, champion of justice, instead of me. I have always wondered, was there something wrong that I was passed by? Why was I not chosen to fulfill such a sacred task? Was I not strong enough to make the difficult decisions that would be required in such a role? Did I let emotions get in the way? I have waited nearly half my life for the opportunity to prove her wrong, for my second chance to become the righteous champion." Psylocke raised her hand and the sand covered the girl's pretty face, the white stripe buried beneath its weight._

 _"You're killing her!" Carol staggered to her feet and lurched towards Betsy._

 _The telepath flicked her fingers and the sand rose up, holding Carol's legs in an iron grip. "I am not. I have merely buried her psyche for…safekeeping. I agree with you, Carol. There was no justice in what happened to you, and Rogue received no punishment for a crime that in itself was the next best thing to murder. In a court of law, she would have received a life sentence and rotted behind bars, or worse."_

 _Carol struggled against the mass. "So, what, you figure you're judge, jury, and executioner here?"_

 _"Hardly. Today, I am giving you your second chance, Carol, and giving Rogue her condemnation. It is the best solution I can offer: we bury her psyche in one of your memories, and you continue on in her place. Do not mistake what I am suggesting. I cannot erase her or separate the pair of you, I have neither the skill nor the inclination. What I can do is conceal her deeply enough that no one will ever find her. I will balance the scales for you, something the great Charles Xavier seemed unwilling to do."_

 _"Bury her?"_

 _Psylocke nodded. "Karma works much too slowly for my taste, and there is no court in the world that could make her pay for what she has done."_

 _The sand holding Carol disintegrated and she stepped towards Betsy, her eyes never leaving the mound of sand that had engulfed Rogue. "I can't let you…can we do this…?"_

 _"It is already done. The sentence has been carried out."_

 _"The X-Men will never let this stand, they'll want to know what happened to her…what do we tell them?"_

 _Psylocke laid a hand on Carol's bewildered face. "We tell them the truth, part of it at any rate. Rogue allowed you to take over in Genosha because something happened to her, correct?" A numb Carol nodded in response. "That is all they need to know. Trauma needs time to heal. As far as our teammates are concerned, we will give her that time, and give you yours…"_

* * *

 **Chapter Eighteen**

"That's, like, totally awesome."

I stepped out of some Shi'ar contraption that was lit up like a pinball machine and turned to stare at myself in the full length mirror propped outside its door. "Not bad, Jubilation," I said, admiring my reflection.

"I like it!" Kitty piped up.

Jubilee wrinkled her nose and straightened her pink shades. "I take it back. If Pryde likes it, it's gotta suck. Back to the drawing board." Kitty swatted at Jubilee, but the teen ducked under her hand and fell off of her chair, pulling welcome giggles from the two who had been distraught for days over the loss of one sweet little girl.

I shook my head and ran a hand down the arm of my new uniform, turned and stretched. The fit was absolutely flawless. "No, gal, I think you nailed it. It's perfect."

To honor Illyana's memory, it had been decided we would all wear our costumes to her memorial service. Problem was, in a fit of anger and disgust, I had donated my last get-up to Goodwill. I could have worn the student's standard issue uniform instead, but I couldn't bear the idea of attending something so solemn while at the same time going to the movies. Y'know, picking my seat? Jubilee had practically drug me to the lower levels and stuffed me inside a Shi'ar replicator they had modified to create costumes, and I had grudgingly played her and Kitty's Barbie doll for the last few hours. It was a needed distraction today, and I didn't mind, at least once I had broken Jubilee of her obsession with the color yellow.

The new bodysuit was instead black, but my favorite shade of green cut into the darker sections in blocks, leaving the black to form the outline of a swimsuit on my torso, then black again on my outer arms and legs. Knee high boots made of a lightweight body armor encased my lower legs.

"It's _almost_ perfect." Jubilee came up behind me and handed me the leather bomber jacket I had inherited from Carol's closet. I shouldered into it and struck a pose. Jubilee and Kitty oohed and aahhed in unison. "Now, it's perfect," the girl grinned.

"I love it!" Kitty clapped her hands enthusiastically.

"Me, too!" The three of us turned to frown at Bobby Drake in the doorway. He grinned and walked towards us, but stopped and waggled his eyebrows at me suggestively. "You look hot, Rogue!"

I put my hands on my hips and scowled. "Eyes up here, buster!"

Surprising me, he boldly snaked an arm around my waist under the jacket. I nearly decked him, but he tugged me towards the door. "I need to borrow Rogue for a little bit, ladies. I promise I'll bring her back." Jubilee made kissing noises as we exited and I spun free of his arms and smacked his shoulder.

"I'm still pissed off at you…" I glowered but he quirked an eyebrow over his smirk. Exasperated, I sighed. "What was that all about, sugar?"

"Just trying to make those girls laugh. That, and I like to see you get all worked up. Your face gets really red…"

I crossed my arms in a huff. "I am not worked up!"

He grinned and I shoved him away. "Rogue," his voice dropped to a whisper and he stepped closer to me. "I really do need you." His expression was suddenly so solemn, so raw with passion that my heart skipped a confused beat. He couldn't hold it, and his eyes twinkled wickedly, that face cracking back into his cheesy grin. "Or, the Professor needs you. He sent me to find you. He's upstairs in his study. Geez, Rogue, what'd you think I meant?" Bobby ducked my punch, and was still laughing at his own gag as I headed upstairs, the seriousness of the day settling back on me.

The Professor and I needed to have it out about a few things, but I had been putting off the conversation. I was still upset, still too quick to anger, and I didn't want to say or do something I would regret. I was surprised he wanted to talk, now, right before Illyana's funeral. Maybe, from his perspective, some thoughts just couldn't wait. I knocked softly on the door to his study.

"Please come in," his voice sounded through the oak door. When I opened it, the Professor was standing in front of a mirror set in the bookcase, fighting a losing battle with a striped tie. "Hello, Rogue." He turned to face me, and his knot was a disaster.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" I stepped forward, removing my new gloves and shoving them deep into the pockets of my jacket. Before he could answer, I set to work on retying his tie, his amused eyes watching my every move.

He cleared his throat. "Yes. I wanted to see how you were doing after your trip to Mississippi. Logan and Remy had some interesting news to share with me."

Big mouths. "I bet they did," I mumbled. Mississippi was where he wanted to start? Not the hidden husband of Carol Danvers? Fine. I took a deep breath so I didn't scream at the man and finished smoothing his tie. "Perfect." I said through gritted teeth.

He turned back to the mirror to admire my handiwork. "Well done. Thank you." He caught sight of my irritation in the mirror. "I was, however, surprised you did not come to me as soon as you returned. There is certainly much we need to discuss."

I cast my gaze to that Persian rug again, avoiding his. Cody, Mystique, my powers, Logan's claws, Alex, it had been a traumatic few days and I had barely been functional through it all, but I was alive, where Illyana wasn't. I hadn't wanted to burden anybody with me or my crap, but I had almost walked away from the school, from this life, in desperation. Had I made the right choice when I agreed to stay?

He placed a hand on my shoulder. "Rogue, it is perfectly reasonable for you to be upset."

"Upset?" I swallowed hard the sudden rage that burned the back of my throat and shrugged away from his touch. "Upset doesn't even begin to cover it, _sir_."

The stern and familiar mask of Professor Xavier slid back into place. "I know that emotions have been running very high as of late, but I hope that you comprehend why I felt it necessary to withhold the knowledge of Alex and Carol's marriage from you. In the early stages of your recovery, it could have completely traumatized you. I feared for your emotional and mental stability."

I stopped myself from taking a big step back, but couldn't stop myself from snorting. "Playin' the crazy card on me again, Professor? I heard that tune from you so many times back in the day I could whistle it!" Nutty Ol' Rogue, the voices in her head drivin' her off the deep end. I had come so far since then that if I wasn't on the verge of crying, I would have laughed in his face.

He held both my shoulders this time and met my ferocious stare without flinching. "Rogue, please. I am trying to tell you that I was wrong. You are stronger than I have given you credit for, and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me, to forgive all of us. I have only wanted what is best for you, but sometimes the correct path is not clearly defined. Despite what my students seem to think, sometimes even the 'old man' makes mistakes, and I am truly sorry that you have suffered for my error in judgement."

I nodded and exhaled slowly, but had to turn away to get myself under control before I spoke. "I'm…beginning to understand that everyone was just looking out for me and my well-being," I started slowly. There was a big part of me that still wanted to rage and scream and pound my fists against the wall, but I sucked in a deep breath and counted to ten, then swung my eyes back to his. "But, I'm only gonna say this once: do not keep anything like this from me again. Understand? An omission ain't nothing but a lie with a prettier face. My momma taught me that, but I always thought you stood for something better! I don't need to be protected like I'm some scared little kid. It's patronizing. If I'm still an X-Man, it's because I've earned that right through blood, sweat, and tears, and nothing and no one will take that away from me."

He held out a hand for mine. "Indeed. Your passion does you credit and is an inspiration to the other students. I am relieved, and pleased you have chosen to stay with us, you have more than earned your place as part of the team. I hope you know that this is your home, and that I consider you a part of my family."

My throat seized up. I returned his handshake, and to my surprise, I meant it. It would be rough, I had a feeling I was still staring down a long road of Xavier led therapy sessions, but we would work through it together. Like family.

"Incidentally," he smiled, "I quite like your new costume."

I allowed him the change in subject. There was plenty left to hash out, but it could wait for another day. "It's a crowd pleaser, apparently. I'll have to let Jubilee know, it's her design."

He gestured to my bare hands. "Hank tells me you have gained a rudimentary control of your powers? This is very exciting."

"Yeah. Pretty crazy, huh? He said he thinks maybe absorbing Mystique's powers healed something inside me, or that Carol's psyche was blocking me from gaining control, like she was gumming up my subconscious."

"Theories that certainly warrant further study. I allowed myself to become distracted with Illyana's escalating illness, but we will give your powers our full attention in the coming weeks. I am enthusiastic in regards to the possibilities they present for you and your role on the team. Rogue, have you given more thought to my offer of assistance concerning your friend, Cody Robbins?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but a knock on the study's door interrupted me. Ororo's silver topped head peered through the entrance.

"Forgive the intrusion, Rogue, Charles, but I was hoping to speak with you before the service concerning Illyana's eulogy…?"

I stepped back gracefully and gave them both a tiny wave.

Xavier didn't let me sneak away so easily. "We'll finish our conversation later, Rogue. I want to help, if I am able."

"Thank you, sir, it means a lot to hear you say that."

Xavier's school was stuffed to the gills with mutants in the hours before the funeral, but after my talk with the Professor, I needed a second alone to catch my breath. Scratch my surface and I was still too heated, too raw. That kind of rage would do me no good. The day was gonna be hard enough for everybody involved, I didn't need to be on the verge of hysterics.

I climbed out onto the mansion's rooftop and found my favorite spot. Lowering myself to the shingles, I tucked my legs under me and tried my best to untangle the snarling knots twisting around my brain. I was staying, I was gonna make another go at using my powers to be the finest X-Man I could be. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, let the breeze tug at my hair. My mutant powers. With everything I had been through in the last few days, with everything I had learned about what had happened to me and my body, my powers had certainly taken a backseat. But, _Jesus H. Christ_ , I had control of my powers. I could _touch_ people! I had made out with a sexy ass Cajun! Twice! The thought practically made me giddy, but every time I allowed myself to feel a glimmer of happiness, the horrible reality of my current situation came crashing down around my ears.

I could touch, but other people had touched me without my consent or knowledge. I didn't want to think about Alex and Carol, together, or the fact that everybody that had supposedly cared for me had just let it happen. I wanted it all to just go away. Lifting my head, I let the afternoon sun beat down on my face and fought back the damn lousy tears that were forming. There'd be plenty of that later, and poor Illyana was much more deserving of sorrow than I.

There were careful footsteps behind me and I twisted to the sound. Kurt Wagner, Nightcrawler, had halted a few feet from the entrance to the mansion, and looked slightly abashed. "Forgive me, Fraulein, I did not realize this spot was taken. I will leave you alone with your thoughts." He turned to head back downstairs, but I held out a hand to stop him.

"No, Kurt, it's all right." I patted the spot on the roof right next to me. "Believe me, I've had enough alone time today. Come and tell me about England, and all the trouble you and Kitty have gotten in to."

Even in the darkest times, Kurt had always been able to make me smile. His grin, a mouthful of even, white fangs, split his blue and furry face and his yellow eyes sparkled. He happily crouched next to me and his forked tail swayed over the roof's edge. Kurt may have looked like a demon, but he was the gentlest, most decent man I had ever known.

His laugh was deep and loud and today, very welcome. "It has certainly been a long, strange trip these last few years! Even stranger still to be back at the school after so very long. So much has changed, I think this must be what Herr Van Winkle felt like when he finally awoke…" His yellow eyes popped wide and his face paled beneath his fur, but I was hit with the sudden white hot flash of memory. "Mein gott, Rogue, I did not mean…"

I could hardly catch my breath. Those _eyes_ , those haunted eyes, the stars of my worst stolen nightmares…

Shouts interrupted Kurt sticking his three toed foot in his mouth and derailed my train of thought. An argument, and the pair of us scrambled to the far edge of the roof to peep over and see what all the fuss was about. What we saw made my blood boil and my stomach seize up simultaneously. Below, on the cement patio of the mansion's backyard, Remy and Alex were in each other's faces, puffed up like two roosters in a cockfight. Before Kurt and I could even react, Alex took a swing at Remy. He dodged it easily and threw Alex down, pinning him to the ground with his forearm against Havok's throat.

Two grown men causing a scene hours before a little girl's funeral? It didn't take a telepath to know what they were fighting about. The anger I had barely swallowed poured back over me. "God dammit," I muttered and choirboy Kurt gave me a funny look. "Sorry, Fuzzy Elf, but this is probably my fault. Can I catch a lift?"

He wrapped an arm around me and teleported. One second we were on the roof, the next we bamfed onto the patio's cement. I slipped away from Kurt, ready to scream bloody murder at the idiots still tearing into each other, but my knees buckled. I would have hit the ground if Kurt hadn't caught me 'round the waist. Nightcrawler's powers were rough on his passengers, and I realized I hadn't ever taken a trip without Carol's invulnerability.

"What the hell is going on here!?" I roared when my stomach stopped turning itself inside out. The pile of beef froze and two faces turned towards me, identical guilty expressions painted on. "Get up!" I stalked towards them, my anger nice and stoked. "Ain't the pair of you got any decency? We bury that little girl in just a couple of hours! You should both be ashamed!" Furious, I stopped over them and put my hands on my hips, my burning eyes bouncing from one to the other.

Remy sprang off the ground with ease and bowed slightly my direction. "Beg pardon, chere. I only…"

I met his red on black eyes, prepared to stay furious at him, but my expression softened. He looked roughed up, but thankfully no worse for the wear, Alex had clearly been losing their tussle. I hadn't seen who started this nonsense, but I had a pretty good guess. I certainly didn't need to be defended, but it was nice to know the Cajun had my back. "We'll discuss it later," I said quietly, and turned my attention to Alex.

I had really hoped to avoid him and his mess until he left, but it seemed like the world wasn't going to let me get out of a confrontation so easily. I should have known better, he needed to be put in his place or the shadow he cast would darken any happiness I managed to muster for myself. "Remy," I whispered, "can you and Kurt give us a minute? Please?"

Gambit opened his mouth like he was fixin' to argue, but I squared my jaw and flicked fierce eyes towards him. I wasn't takin' no for an answer. This bullshit had to stop.

Remy nodded sharply. "As you wish." He took a long step towards me on his way past, stopping so close in front of me that I could feel his body heat. He spoke to me, but turned his head and made sure Alex heard him. "I'm right inside that door, Anna." I nodded once and shivered, shifting my focus back to Alex as Remy walked away.

Havok's glare followed the boys back into the mansion. "That guy's a snake, Rogue." His voice shook with a barely controlled rage, and he ran a trembling hand through his hair. "He gets off on being a thieving, manipulative bastard…"

"Ex- _cuse_ me?" I narrowed my eyes and marched towards him. He started at the sudden venom in my voice and backed away. "Do you really want to go there with me? 'Cause you're not exactly a knight in shining armor here, Alex."

Shaking his head, he stopped and stood his ground. "I'm just trying to look out for you. I'm not the bad guy, Rogue."

"And I am?" I jabbed a finger hard into his chest. "I'm gonna make this real simple for you. I ain't Carol, never was. Whatever it is you're lookin' for? You're not gonna find it here. From now on, we're strangers. Gambit is none of your goddamned business, and neither am I!" Short and sweet, it was all I felt needed to be said, and I was finished with him and all of his sick fantasies. I spun on my heel and turned away, but he grabbed hold of my arm. Without thinking, I spun back around and did what I had been itchin' to do since he had broken down my bedroom door. I punched him right in his pretty face. It was a punch that would have done Wolverine proud, and it felt fucking fantastic. A stunned Alex tumbled backwards onto his ass and a spray of blood spattered his shirt. Staring at me in disbelief, he gingerly cradled the side of his face.

Standing over him, I just screamed, not caring who heard. "What do you _want_ from me, Alex? What the fuck did you think was gonna happen here? Did you think I'd just fall all over you, that Carol's love was contagious like a disease? That my body would still somehow want you, remember your hands on me, that I just wouldn't be able to control myself? If you think I'm that lonely and desperate, you're goddamned delusional!"

"NO! I know what you think of me, Rogue, I just wanted the chance to explain! I needed you to understand what happened..!"

"Understand? Oh, I understand, sugar. I understand that the two of you were selfish assholes who couldn't keep it in their pants, no matter who paid the price!"

He rose from the ground and wiped a trail of crimson from under his nose. With one hit, I had managed to bloody his nose and blacken his eye. "You don't understand anything," he whispered hoarsely. "You think that's all it was between us? Just sex? You're the one that's delusional. Whether you want to acknowledge it or not, I loved Carol, and she loved me. We had a life together, and now that's all gone. Everyone keeps telling me to move on, to get over it, but…I can't just walk away…not like this…!"

"The hell you can't! I don't owe you a damn thing!"

"I lost my wife!"

"Yeah, you did, and because of it, I got my life back! I won't let you or anyone else make me feel guilty for that!"

I left him with his mouth hanging wide open and slammed back into the mansion through the French doors, meaning to get as far away as I could, but a voice stopped me in my tracks.

"Pretty mean right hook, Anna." Like he had promised, Remy was standing in the window drapes' long shadows, watching me and Alex. He stepped towards me and took my hand in his.

I had been so worked up I hadn't noticed that I nearly broke my fingers on Alex's face. Now that it was done, I was shaking something fierce and the bare skin of my knuckles was torn and bloody. Remy pulled me into his chest, wrapped his strong arms around me, and held me tight. Pulling back, he brushed a wayward strand of hair from my face and smiled crookedly.

"Let's get you an ice pack, Rocky."

He looped an arm around my waist and steered me towards the kitchen, but I couldn't stop myself from stealing one last look out the patio doors. I never said I was completely heartless. The expression on Alex's face, standing just where I left him, tore my heart to pieces. Certainly wasn't every day I made a grown man cry.


	19. Chapter 19

All characters owned by Marvel Comics

Author's notes: We're at the climax of our story here folks, after this, nothing left but the epilogue!

This chapter was a little different for me to write, I followed along with the plot of a specific existing issue more closely than usual, in this case Uncanny X-Men #304. I figured Illyana's funeral and everything that happened after it would play out pretty much the same with the altered timeline, so a lot of the dialogue is pulled directly from the issue written by Scott Lobdell, I just danced my Rogue in and around, then changed things when I needed to. Hopefully it's a good read, and thank you to everyone that has been following this story! Like I said, next week you get an epilogue, so we're not totally finished yet!

After reading this chapter, if there's something that you were wondering about that never got answered, drop me a pm or ask in the reviews. I had lots of outlines for this story to follow the effect Rogue's absence would have on each character, so if something never got mentioned in the story, I may have had it written down somewhere. I couldn't touch each day of the four years Rogue was gone, and most of the story is told from her perspective, so for the other X-Men, there was no reason to put some of their stuff in the story, but I probably had it in my timeline. If someone has a question that isn't addressed in the epilogue, I'll put it in my notes next week.

Thanks again!

* * *

 **Interlude: I've got a New Sensation**

 _Four years and a few days before…_

 _Their shared body was curled into the fetal position on the cold metal slab of their prison cell. For hours, Carol had been trying to reach her, screaming at the top of her silent lungs, begging for a reaction, for anything from the girl, but…nothing._

 _Sharing emotions and everyday experiences since that fateful night in San Francisco, tonight Carol had felt something different from Rogue, something distressing, a numb hopelessness. The girl, usually so stubborn and fierce to the point of pigheaded, had simply given up._

 _Carol knew their connection had grown stronger since their resurrection in Dallas courtesy of Roma. What began as a vague awareness on her part had grown steadily stronger every day, her voice louder, but she was still nothing but a handful of stolen memories. Substance, but no form. She still held no power here, had no influence, despite her best efforts._

 _Today, though, had been something else entirely. Rogue's anguish, her despair, had torn something inside them, the veil that had existed between their personalities had been pierced and Carol emerged into a world of echoes and shadows._

 _Rogue. She felt that the girl was near and pushed her way through faded remembrances to find the girl in living color, huddled and surrounded._

 _If Rogue died, what would happen to their body? The thought crossed her mind, but Carol shoved it away and held out her hand…_

* * *

 **Chapter Nineteen**

Mounds of flowers, the blossoms the color of new fallen snow, adorned the base of the heavy marble grave marker, but my eyes trailed to the single red rose lying lifeless on the top of the cross. The small chapel and cemetery tucked in the woods on the edge of Professor Xavier's estate was where the X-Men came to bury all of their dead, and it was unfortunately a familiar place for most of us assembled.

Ororo had been chosen to deliver Illyana's eulogy, but her deep, soothing voice offered me little solace. "I choose to believe," she intoned majestically, as only a goddess could, "that Illyana is looking down upon this assemblage of her friends and family, and is elated to see you all here, draped in the colors worn in the defense of a dream in which she was engaged for almost half her life…"

Tears stung the edges of my eyes, and I opened them wide, wiling them to hold. I was so sick of crying, or feeling out of control. I chanced a look around at my fellow mutants, some friends, some teammates, some strangers. Funerals, for good or bad, always brought families together, and Illyana's death had done just that. Nearly anyone who had ever strapped an 'X' to their costume was here to mourn the girl's passing. Thankfully absent were Warren and Betsy, too soon for a reconciliation, but there were some I hadn't seen for a lifetime like Sean Cassidy, or Pietro Maximoff, the superspeeding Quicksilver. Magneto's son was now one of Xavier's followers? I was reminded again of how the world sometimes made strange bedfellows.

At that thought, I caught the blazing stare of a man I had once considered both friend and teammate. Alex's eyes, one of them a blackened swollen mess thanks to my fist, reached across the rainbow sea of spandex to burn through mine, pleading so intensely I shivered and turned away. I wasn't ready to even look at him yet. The pain was too raw, too fresh, the betrayal made doubly horrible because those closest to me had decided to keep something so important from me.

I had thought, had hoped, that Remy and I were learning to trust one another. He was opening up to me, and I still wanted to believe he had my best interests at heart and hadn't wanted to see me hurt because of all of this. But with him, and the rest of my teammates for that matter, when had guarding my feelings crossed the line into outright abuse? That was the crap Mystique had always pulled on me, and I had expected better from Gambit and the others. Remy and I had what I hoped was a breakthrough on the back of his bike. It felt like our walls had started to come down, like we were on the verge of something truly amazing, but there was still a nagging voice in my head that hissed in the night, that little whisper that asked if maybe Warren had been right, if maybe it all was really just a game to him. I wanted it to be as simple as that, to tell Remy to take a hike and cut my losses before he could hurt me again, but my heart told me that Warren was dead wrong. Remy was a good man, and he deserved this second chance. I cared about him, more than I wanted to admit, and I wasn't ready to let go of whatever it was we had.

Standing beside me, almost as if he had heard my thoughts, Remy found my fingers with his and squeezed. I gratefully buried my face into the shoulder of his trench coat, and forced myself to listen to Ororo's beautiful words. My mess of a life would still be here tomorrow, but we were all here to honor Illyana, who sadly no longer would be.

When the service concluded, the mourners scattered into whispering packs. My heart broke when I caught sight of a sobbing Kitty engulfed in Sam Guthrie's arms, but I had to get out of there before my body's ex-husband made any more embarrassingly awkward overtures.

Logan and Jean, her exoskeleton disguised in the pouches and pockets that adorned her orange and navy costume, were walking arm in arm, doing their best to ignore the other Summers brother. I turned their way, Remy quietly walking beside me. Logan stopped to light a cigar, but frowned when the sound of raised voices echoed through the small clearing.

"Just a minute, chere," Remy touched my shoulder and turned warily back towards the grave. "I think something's brewing."

My mouth fell open at the sight of Peter, the iron clad Colossus, who still hadn't shed a single tear for his lost baby sister, towering menacingly over Professor Xavier. The anger, the grief and rage, were choking the usually gentle Russian.

"Shit," Logan cursed and tossed his cigar onto the gravel of the small parking lot. Scott Summers, Cyclops, was standing with Professor Xavier, and, in spite of their ethical disagreements of late, looked to be doing his best to try and help calm Colossus down. "Cajun, get Rogue and Jeannie out of here," Logan grumbled and marched into the thick of it.

Gambit absently reached for Jean's elbow to escort her away while he kept his eyes glued to the action, but she gave him a withering stare. "Don't be ridiculous," she scoffed.

"You and your dream failed me!" Peter roared across the crowd. "Worse, it failed Illyana. And for that, I will never forgive you!"

Their argument was interrupted by the sudden rush of wind, and the sizzle of lightning that sent a thousand tingles across my skin, every hair standing on end. The sky, clear as a bell just seconds before, shattered above us in a crackling blaze of energy.

"How fortuitous for everyone," A voice boomed over the clearing, "that I have chosen this moment to return!" The supposedly dead Magneto appeared directly over our heads at the center of a mighty magnetic storm.

"Magneto!" Cyclops roared and fired a volley of optic blasts, full force. "I knew it! You're alive!"

The villain sneered and deflected the shots, sending a tendril of his energy rippling through the crowd of us gathered. "How observant, Cyclops." All around me, mutants flipped the switch of their powers and took aim at the man.

Jean threw an arm around Gambit's shoulder. "Get this thing off of me," she hissed and pressed a button to deactivate her exoskeleton. "Last thing I need is for him to use the metal against me, and I need use of my full powers." She caught my eyes in her steady gaze. "Well, almost my full powers." She grabbed my wrist and wiggled her bare skin to find mine between my costume and glove. "Logan told me what happened in the clearing, that you doubled him? Get as many powers as you can. I know you can do it."

She squeezed my wrist, and it took me a heartbeat to understand what she was asking me to do. I nearly opened my mouth to ask if she was out of her freaking mind, but I knew in my heart she was right. Scared as hell, I pulled, skimming off a big helping of telekinesis and telepathy. I staggered under the weight of her powers, but was able to help Remy unclip the exoskeleton while Jean helped me erect hasty psi shields to control her borrowed abilities. It was overwhelming to become an instant mind reader, but I had done it before, years ago with Professor Xavier, and found it was a lot like riding a bicycle, if that bicycle screamed inside your head with a thousand voices. If I had wanted practice absorbing mutant powers, I was sure as hell gonna get it. She slumped into Gambit's arms for only a moment before she propelled herself forward telekinetically.

Gambit turned his eyes to mine and opened his mouth, but my face shushed him. There was no way I was bein' sidelined. Jean Grey was a flippin' genius. With my abilities the way they were, I could theoretically double our firepower against that bastard. I didn't know if I was up to it, but I was sure as hell gonna try. I had absorbed the powers of the whole team on more than one occasion, but it would be different this time around. This time, I could leave them conscious to fight beside me. At least, I hoped I could…it sure would be a bitch if I failed…

He brushed my cheek with the back of his bare index finger to give me a contact, and gave me one last forlorn look before he joined the fray. With his powers, that was two. Time to see if I could collect them all.

"Crashing a funeral, Magster? Tres tacky." Bobby and Ororo were trying to contain Magneto, but with outstretched hands and barely a flick of his finger, the rat obliterated the squad of town cars we had driven to the funeral.

"I'm here to offer you all… _salvation_ …and a place at my side…"

With my borrowed powers, I felt it a split second before it happened, a twitch of energy that turned into a hard tug. In an instant we were all frozen, Magneto stopping us by grabbing hold of the iron in our blood and covering us in metallic ropes made from reshaped car parts. Worse than that, we were surrounded as his followers, the Acolytes, emerged from the trees. None of us had known they were there until they were right on top of us, and now we were trapped.

The dozen or so mutants were fanatics, ready to kill or die in Magneto's name, a claim the Master of Magnetism was prepared to put to the test. But, instead of attacking, they stood still, awaiting orders, a cocked gun held at our heads. I struggled against the chains wrapping my body, and so did everybody else, but to no avail. We were just a captive audience when one of the man's supporters stepped forward.

"There is no need for you to attack, X-Men," Magneto boomed above us. "I did not come to engage you in battle. Rather, I have come to help you, to help all mutants. But in order to do this, I must demand total loyalty from those who count themselves amongst my followers…"

The Acolyte who knelt in front of Magneto had a long coil of flesh that was alive with his own mutant power, draped in front of him in supplication. Too late, I realized what we were witnessing. Not just a test of loyalty. A demonstration. The Master of Magnetism reached out with invisible fingers and mercilessly choked his disciple with the man's own appendage. A collection of gasps and gags erupted from our immobilized group.

He was insane. The Magneto I had known, who had taken Charles Xavier's place as headmaster of this very school, had been a damaged man for sure, but that man had known too well the value of human life. He would never have murdered someone in cold blood. The man in front of us today had lost whatever grip he had on reality, had been reduced to a caricature of his former self. Any loyalty or sense of honor had been thrown out the window with the bathwater. He would kill us just as soon as spit on us, his offer of sanctuary and a place at his side was bullshit. We were in serious trouble.

"Do not weep for this man," Magneto continued. "But know, from this day forward, all those who do not stand with me, whether mutant or not, can be counted among my enemies!" The energy spiraling from him intensified; a cyclone of magnetic force agitated the sky overhead like a washing machine on the spin cycle. "Behold now, your salvation! Behold now, Avalon!"

The atmosphere changed from day to night with the shadow of the immense structure he called down from the heavens. The construct was bigger than a skyscraper, a monstrous hunk of metal, rock, and glass spitting fire and rolling thunder. A space station, cobbled together using technologies clearly stolen from other worlds. Magneto's new mutant sanctuary. I could feel it, feel its energy, its pressure, the winds whipping through the cemetery howled and groaned, and the station blotted out the sun as far as the eye could see. One look at Ororo's face told me all I needed to know of the effect the floating technological behemoth was having on the planet around us. We couldn't lift a damn finger to fight him.

"Behold now, the ascension!"

Instead of attacking us, Magneto's Acolytes took to the sky, lifted by the powers of one of their own, a dark-haired mutant I had never seen before, but one who registered so high on the psi-scale that in passing his energy ripped through my pathetic little shields and sent me near into convulsions. I bit my lip until I tasted blood to stop myself from screaming, and would have doubled over from the pain if I hadn't been frozen like a dragonfly in amber.

A horrified Professor Xavier, kept purposefully free of Magneto's control, stepped towards his old friend, ready to use diplomacy and big words to get through to a man who only spoke the language of crazy. He and Magneto verbally sparred over the finer points of their differing opinions as the rest of us stood still like flies in a web, our powers still useless. Well, most of our powers. While they argued, a steady glow began emanating from the man named Bishop, his skin afire with an energy that built in ever increasing intensity.

"What's with the walking light-brite?" a tactful Bobby hissed.

"My mutant ability does not include an off switch, Robert," Bishop's baritone voice shook as he whispered over the din of the behemoth above us. "I automatically absorb any energy directed at me, channeling it through me, any energy, including, apparently, Magneto's…"

The uncontrollable force inside Bishop built until he couldn't hold it anymore. The big man's powers exploded towards Avalon in a tremendous burst, damaging the exterior of the station, the detonation shattering an enraged Magneto's concentration and freeing us from his grasp.

"This!?" he screamed. "This is how you repay the courtesy I've extended you!?"

We scattered, and shards of Avalon rained down on our heads. A group launched a direct attack on Magneto, but they were just a distraction while the energy wielders of the collective teams descended on Bishop and poured their powers into him. In a hurried rush, I walked around their circle, borrowing a piece of each as I went by, building up my own personal arsenal.

The fliers, led by Ororo and Jean, took to the sky to hold the crumbling Avalon together and to keep the Acolytes at bay. Bishop's blast had knocked the station's socks off and chunks were shearing off and falling our way dangerously. If it crashed, if it came apart in the sky, who knew how many lives were at stake? I wove through the crowds of us, snatching what powers I could before Jean's mental call for help reached me.

Alex Summer's bruised face saddened at my hesitant touch. "What's you limit regarding the number of energy signatures you can absorb at any one time?" I wasn't sure if he was asking me or Bishop, but I kept moving, kept collecting. Half a dozen now, many more to go. If my powers doubled our efforts, we'd lick the bastard yet.

 _'We can't hold this for long!_ ' Jean shouted in everyone's minds and she was right. We were losing it. Magneto was what was holding the vessel together in Earth's atmosphere, with his own stubborn ass will. The more we hit him, the more it fell apart, the more lives were in danger. Jean looked at me with fire in her eyes. ' _Rogue…!'_

I made a choice and joined Jean and Ororo in the sky while the rest of our teammates battled for Magneto's attention. In the din below, I spared a fleeting glance for Remy, and my eyes found him with Bobby Drake, Roberto DaCosta, and the main event Bishop. They had somehow managed to get Magneto on the ground. I wanted to join them, to protect my friends, wanted to get that bastard's helmet off and drain him dry, but if the thinly veiled panic I felt coming from Ororo and Jean was any indication, I was more needed in the air. With my borrowed abilities I was amplifying their energies, but it became clear real fast that we were fighting a losing battle. Tryin' to hold that station together was like tryin' to plug a hole in a dam. Every piece of the shattering space station I tried to hold onto knocked another loose, threatening upstate New York with every crash.

"Dear God, Peter!" Over the hubbub, I heard Kitty Pryde's high-pitched scream. "NO!"

I chanced a look through the smoke and shrapnel at Peter, my friend, a man with the soul of an artist in the body of a warrior, and gasped. With his big, shiny metal fist, Peter had clobbered Bishop, our big gun, and was helping Magneto to his feet. With a wave of his hand, Magneto welcomed Peter to the fold and sent Colossus skyward to join forces with his Acolytes in what was left of Avalon. Peter's massive metal body was void of any expression, of any emotion, as he whizzed past a devastated Ororo, Jean, and me.

The Professor stood in front of Magneto and attacked with his mental powers, screaming inside and out, my borrowed powers doing a disco dance at the energy they kicked up. The Professor lashed out, hurling a bolt of pure telepathic energy at his former friend. My cobbled together shield courtesy of Jean's powers was the only thing that protected me from the brunt of it, but the rest of the X-Men cried out in agony from the force.

I knew what I had to do. I was no match for Magneto on my own, even with the collected powers of half the mutants here, but now, while he was distracted, I could get close enough to use my _own_ powers. If I used them like I had with Mystique, I could end this, and use Magneto's abilities to handle the crippled space station.

Gritting my teeth, I dropped to the ground in the middle of the raging battle. The graveyard, what should be a sacred place, had been reduced to a war zone. I picked my way quickly through teammates still groggy from the backlash of the Professor's attack. Necessity really was the mother of invention. Using Jean's psychic abilities, I got creative and channeled my borrowed energies into a strengthened shield that I used to wedge my way through the magnetic barricade pulsating visibly from the ground zero of Professor Xavier and Magneto's battle.

The Professor was through screwing around, and I was right there with him, dropping my gloves to the ground. He and Magneto fell to their knees, and I launched myself at the distracted villain, catching him from behind in a choke hold. I seized one of his biceps where his costume had torn in battle and pulled on his bare skin for all my powers were worth. He pounded with his powers and his elbows, slamming me in the stomach, but with my other hand I managed to rip off the helmet that protected him from telepathic attacks. He threw himself backwards on top of me and tried to twist away from my grasp, but I held on, wedged my forehead and cheek against the slip of bare skin at the back of his neck. His prey free of its shield, Xavier attacked with a ferocity I had never seen the gentle Professor employ before.

If I had thought holding down Mystique was like trying to straighten out a sack of rattlesnakes, absorbing Magneto was drowning in a pit full of serpents, his personality and powers writhed and squeezed my breath and mind until I was suffocating in the clear air. He fought me with knees and fists, rolled me back on the ground, tried smashing me, flipping me, pounded me into the dirt, but I held on and bared my teeth. No time for gentle or pleasant, I ripped with my powers as hard as I could and the two of us played tug of war with his soul. Between him, me, and Xavier, we were throwing off some serious energy that kept the rest of the X-Men, dazed from the feedback of the Professor's initial attack, backed up far away from us. Magneto cracked a sharp elbow against my torso and bucked. I felt my head snap against the ground and the warm wetness of blood spread through my hair, but it only pissed me off. Every time he slipped away, I found a new spot to hold and kept my arms and legs wrapped mummy-tight around him from behind. While I dug with my powers, I picked at his mental shields with what was left of Jean and the others, and the Professor did the same with much better results.

I felt Magneto's ferocious control slip for an instant and I wiggled my way in, reeled him in like fighting a fish on a line. The force of the man was like nothing I had ever felt. I thought I had an idea of what I was grabbing hold of, but the pain, the rage, he was a walking lifetime of nightmares. The darkness of his thoughts and emotions filled in around me and I treaded water in the depths of my mind, barely keeping my head afloat.

His powers were an exponential expansion of my awareness, and with them came a sudden, harsh connection to the planet around us. With his link to the Earth's magnetic field, Magneto felt the repercussions of his own callous manipulations as physical pain, but he continued regardless, too driven by the force of his own convictions to stop. The weight of Avalon in the sky above us burned like a hot coal held against my skin. The Professor was my life line and I held on to his steadying presence by my mental fingernails. Without him, I would have been lost. Magneto was too strong; I would never have gotten this far on my own.

After what seemed like hours, but was in reality just a few moments, Magneto convulsed and collapsed against me, dead weight pinning me to the ground. Inside me his mind reared and snarled, fought like a wild animal for dominance, but working together, the Professor and I got a shaky hold on him.

With my borrowed powers I flung his limp body off of me. There was no time for discussion, the Professor and I had to move as one to contain what was left of Avalon. My mutant power let me use the ability I had borrowed from Magneto as if it had always been mine, and I held my arms wide and enveloped the two of us in a magnetic field. We rose from the ground up into the atmosphere, rocketing towards a shattered mutant heaven. Like Ororo, Magneto saw the world as patterns of energy, the sky and clouds rippling rainbow bands enfolding the planet. How had I not seen them before? It was all so clear to me now, they were so beautiful. With barely a flick of my finger, the Earth danced for me. I had absorbed heroes and villains, gods and goddesses, but few held the raw power that was now burning inside of me. It was amazing…

 _'Rogue.'_ Xavier snapped me back to reality and the enormous task at hand.

The problem was even worse than we had assumed while battling it from below. Avalon couldn't stay where it was, it was putting too much stress, too much pressure on the Earth's atmosphere and magnetic field. It needed to be removed before it caused permanent damage. We had few options. Dismantling the enormous space station simply wasn't possible given the sheer mass and energy contained inside. Where would we scrap it? It was bigger than a small city, somebody would surely notice if we dumped that kind of garbage on their doorstep, and we couldn't abandon that much alien technology, even if it was worthless metal. The forces required to remove it from the atmosphere would completely eff up the planet's magnetic field for weeks, maybe months to come, but I didn't see any other way and we were out of time. I couldn't destroy it, and didn't want to, not with Peter inside. The Acolytes would have to become sheep without a shepherd, lost to the depths of space.

I mumbled a silent prayer for Peter, and felt the Professor next to me in that wild, nearly breathless sky, bolstering my strength with his. Together, we created an enormous buildup of magnetic energy in the atmosphere below Avalon. With it, I turned the station and the planet into two magnets with the same charge, the effort draining nearly everything I had. The two like poles repelled each other in a spectacular blast of electromagnetic energy, the whole planet treated to the best show of Northern Lights anyone would ever see. Avalon shot off into space at a frightening speed. With what strength I had left, I corrected its course to avoid the moon and gave it one last tremendous boost, sling-shotting it off the Earth's gravity to blaze towards the stars.

The last thing I remembered was tumbling helplessly towards the ground.

"There's no court in the land that can convict him! We tried the world's judicial system before, and it failed!" An angry voice, Cyclops', nudged me awake with its ferocious volume. "No jail can hold him, we have no other choice!"

I stirred and tried to sit up, immediately wishing I hadn't.

"Easy, chere." Remy breathed into my ear, his arms around me like every chance he got. A smile twitched at the corner of my mouth, but I winced. I was on the ground, propped against his chest, but I didn't remember how I had gotten there. The aches and pains that were sure to become bruises or worse told me it hadn't been a gentle landing.

"Cyke's right," Logan snarled.

My eyes popped open, terrified at what could possibly get Logan to utter those words. The X-Men were grouped around the still unconscious Magneto. Uneasily, I felt for the Master of Magnetism's powers, but breathed a sigh of relief to find them gone. His mind was a tortured mess I was happy to be rid of, and I assumed he was being kept comatose by Jean, who I caught sight of in the arms of the bounding Beast. The Professor, his views seemingly in conflict with his former student, looked as incapacitated as I felt, slumped nearby against Ororo and Sam Guthrie.

I took a slow look around as the opposing sides made their arguments, and it became clear from the nods of agreement and expressions on the faces of each mutant that the various teams weren't just gathered around the scene, they had chosen sides. It appeared we had ourselves an old-fashioned standoff.

Though he was exhausted, the Professor stood his ground. "I will not condone the execution of this man!" he roared through his pain.

Cyclops inched closer to the prone form of the villain. The months on the lam hadn't been kind to Scott Summers. He moved like a desperate man, and desperate men had nothing to lose. He blamed the fella that lay at his feet for the disintegration of his life. I ignored the puppy dog stare of Alex Summers, at his place behind his brother.

What shocked me the most about the situation was Logan siding with the unhinged Cyclops. The two had never seen eye to eye on anything, doubly so after the events of the last few years, but even this far away I could see fear tugging at Logan's features, a primal fear he couldn't control. After absorbing Magneto's powers, I knew where that fear came from. Magneto was a force of nature, relentless, fanatical in his own righteousness. How do you fight someone with that kind of tenacity? How can you let someone like that just walk away? Magneto believed passionately in the justness of his cause, and that was the problem. He and the Professor shared a lot of common goals, it was their execution that showcased their differences. The open hand versus the closed fist. Which was the right path to take?

"With all due respect, _sir_ , you're too close to make this decision. Your judgement is clouded by your feelings." Scott's ruby quartz visor glowed.

"And yours isn't?" Ororo and Sam helped the Professor to stand. "Scott, this cannot be our decision. He must be put on trial…"

"Judged by a jury of his peers, right?" Scott mocked. "What the hell do you think we are? We may be some of the only people qualified enough to do that." I heard the snikt of Logan's claws.

"You two decide who the judge is and who's on the jury, so long as I'm the executioner." He stalked forward, a predator sighting his prey.

"Logan, NO!" Jean screamed in vain, too preoccupied holding down Magneto to stop the man she loved.

I untangled myself from Gambit's arms and threw myself in an agonized heap between Logan and the helpless baddie. "Don't do this!" I held up my hands and Logan barely stopped, the rage quivering every muscle in his body.

"It's what I do best, darlin'. That bastard needs to pay for what he's done, and I'm here to collect."

I was in so much pain I nearly threw up, but I grabbed hold of my rage and snarled back at him. "That was Betsy's argument. You thinkin' she was right?" His eyes widened and he froze. I kept my tone even, soothing, and talked my friend down from the ledge. "Maybe he does deserve to die, but that's not our call to make. He's not a monster, he's a man, a man who's lived nightmares that even you can't begin to imagine. It ain't our place to take that last step, you don't need his blood on your hands! Let the Avengers or Nick Fury's people deal with him. They can keep him locked up, see that he pays for his crimes with more than his life!"

He retracted his claws and I breathed a silent sight of relief. "All right, darlin'," he whispered. "We'll try it your way."

Cyclops rushed forward. "Like hell we will! This man took everything from me! Everything! He should be put down like the dog he is!" Logan spun and grabbed him, and the two tussled back and forth. Cyclops was a man possessed and unleashed a torrent of optic blasts that scattered the crowd of X-Men, keeping those who tried to interfere a giant step back.

"Stop this!" Xavier roared, but they ignored his cries.

Over the straining muscles of Logan's shoulder, Scott fired a full strength optic blast straight for me.

"NO!" Alex dove and the blast ricocheted off his body and went wide. A swarm of recovered X-Men descended on Cyclops and got him down on the ground.

Alex knelt in front of me and grabbed my face between his hands. "Are you okay?" I swallowed and nodded. He kissed my forehead and turned back to his still struggling brother. "It's over, Scott," he said sadly.

"It's not over! Not until he's dead! Don't you understand? It's all his fault! He has to pay!" Scott roared and struggled in the arms of Bobby and Hank. Kurt and Kitty had Jean balanced between them and she watched her former lover with sad, troubled eyes. Logan, claws spread wide, stood in front of Scott.

Alex stepped up into his brother's face. "This has to stop, Scott, it's already gone too far. Don't you see that? You're ready to sacrifice everything you stand for, even the people that we love to get what you want." He pointed to the ground. "Take a good look at that man, because you keep going on this road, that's right where you'll be!"

Scott collapsed, and a strangled cry escaped his lips. "Oh, God…" he moaned in defeat. "Oh, God, Jean…? I…what have I done?" his head hung low. "I…I destroyed everything…"

Remy helped me to my feet and I leaned against him gratefully. His fierce eyes locked onto mine. "Anna…"

I laid a firm hand on his chest. "I'm fine, Remy. I need to see this finished." But how the hell was that gonna happen? It looked like no one had any bright ideas, until one man stepped forward.

"I believe," a voice came from the crowd. "I may have a solution." The sea of mutants parted, and Pietro Maximoff, the superfast Quicksilver, came to stand over the unconscious body of his father.

It was a long night full of angry, impassioned arguments, but in the end, Magneto's own son provided us our resolution. His current team, what was left of X-Factor after Carol and Alex had left the government's answer to the mutant problem, volunteered to escort the villain into the custody of his former team, the Avengers, to be held at the containment facility known as The Raft. The Avengers, with their United Nations clearance and all of the technology they had at their disposal, really were the best solution in the short term to deal with a super-powered villain.

The long term? Well, that remained one big, unanswered question.


	20. Chapter 20

All characters owned by Marvel Comics

Author's notes: Whew! Last chapter! Can't believe we're already done! Thanks everybody for reading, it's been really awesome to have people so excited about one of my stories!

No sequel in mind for this one, Rogue's in a good place at the end here and I think I'll leave her there. I know I kind of end with a few unanswered questions, but that's how I like to do things. (Though, after reading this epilogue, the answer to the question you may have about Val Cooper is "yes".)

* * *

 **Epilogue**

"Don't be a stranger, Rogue." Kitty crushed the life out of me in one of her bear hugs, and kissed my cheek before she let go. "Wow," she beamed, though her eyes held a trace of sadness. "Still not used to that."

I laughed. "Tell me about it. I mean, what am I gonna do with all my gloves?" We giggled together the way old friends do, but I had to say my peace to the girl before she trotted off back to England. "Kitty, Pete'll be okay. I saw the specs on that station in Magneto's memories, and it was self-sustaining, water, air, food, meant to house hundreds of mutants long-term…"

Shaking, she sighed. "I know. I just still can't believe he'd…" She bit back her tears. "I mean, how could he? I just can't process it. He and Illyana…I lost them both." I hugged her again and her little body snuffled tears onto my shoulder.

"He was in a lot of pain, Kitty, more than any of us could understand. I'm speaking from experience, sugar, sometimes you have to go a long ways away before you can come home again."

Kurt came down the main staircase with a suitcase in his hand. It had been a day for goodbyes as the world couldn't wait for us to grieve anymore. The blue and fuzzy Kurt, whose haunting yellow eyes matched the falling baby in my worst nightmare. A nightmare, or a memory? I hadn't said anything about it to anyone except Remy, didn't know what it could mean. If I ever ran into Mystique again, it was on the top of a long laundry list of questions, a list that included askin' her about her seeming mental obsession with antique books and journals...

"Guten tag, Fraulein Anna," he winked and I winced. Damn Remy LeBeau and his big mouth. I had missed Kitty and Kurt dearly, and it seemed like they had just gotten there, but old friends were never far away. "Until we meet again." Kitty blew me a kiss and I watched them both head for the lower levels and their own aircraft parked in the hangar.

I stepped from the entryway into the living room and stood next to the windows. Most everyone had left by now. X-Factor had disappeared in the dead of night with the still unconscious Magneto in tow, Professor Xavier and Hank riding shotgun to keep him that way. When the Professor returned, we had a trip to Mississippi to plan. I had decided it was long past time I introduced him to an old friend.

Most of X-Force had scattered, too, gone who the hell knew where. I was sad to see Sam and Roberto run off like thieves in the night, but had been glad to see the rest of them leave.

It was almost dusk of the day after the funeral, and out the window I caught a glimpse of Jubilee, Bobby, and Bishop heading for the basketball court. Life would go on with the X-Men, we'd taken our lumps and bruises, but we would always come up swingin'. I wondered if they needed a fourth for their game of pickup…

"Can I say goodbye? Please?" I whirled at the sound, and the body of Alex Summers filled the entryway.

My stomach did a backflip. "You didn't leave with the rest of your team?" It was a stupid question, obviously he hadn't left yet, but I still didn't know how I felt about him, or how I should act around him. The anger, the betrayal, still simmered beneath the surface, but I didn't know if I could hate him for what had happened. You can't help who you fall in love with, and if I hadn't been part of it from the inside, I might have been able to see the tragedy in the story of Carol and Alex. In time, maybe, who knew how deep my hurt would remain.

He stepped towards me with the sad eyes of a puppy dog that expected to get kicked. "I'm done with X-Force. I'm gonna catch up with X-Factor at the Avengers' mansion, see if I can do some good in the name of Uncle Sam. Val Cooper stopped this morning on her way back to Washington from a mission in Mississippi. I'll ride with her to New York to join the rest of the team." He stopped in front of me and an awkward silence stretched in front of us.

I never could stand awkward silences, so I broke it first. "Did Scott leave with Sam and the others?"

He shook his head. "He left for Alaska to visit our grandparents. He needs to get away from all of this, get his head back together." Wasn't that the truth? Alex opened his mouth three or four times like he wanted to say something more to me, but couldn't get it to come out right. His face was still a mottled, swollen mess thanks to my punch, and I felt the teensiest bit guilty about that, but there was no way I was apologizing. I took a different track.

"Thanks, by the way, for saving me from your brother's bullet at the end there."

Grimacing, he ran a hand through his thick blonde hair. "Uh, you know Scottie and I are immune to each other's powers, right? I wasn't exactly Sir Galahad."

I rolled my eyes. "You may be immune, but I ain't. It's the thought that counts, sugar."

He took my hands in his and stared at them, ran his thumbs along my bare knuckles, the row on my right hand scabbed over from where they had connected with his cheekbone. "Rogue, I…"

I slid a hand from his grasp and put it over his mouth "A thank you is all I can give right now, Alex." Forgiveness, if ever, was gonna be a long time comin'.

He held my hand to his mouth and kissed it softly, his piercing blue eyes a startling contrast to his gentle touch. "It'll do," he whispered roughly. "For now." He pulled back and smiled, but it didn't reach those fierce eyes that were confusing me, making my knees shake.

"Are you ready?" Val Cooper, X-Factor's government liaison, paused in the hallway to look in on us.

"Yeah," Alex called over his shoulder. "I'll be right there, Val."

Val had never been my biggest fan. Her eyes moved from him to me, but something about the way she stared at us raised the hackles on the back of my neck. The corner of her mouth went up in a strange smile before she headed out the door.

Alex reached up and tucked a stray curl behind one of my ears, and I let him. "Goodbye, Rogue."

"Goodbye, Alex."

Just like that, he walked away. I sighed and leaned against the back of a couch to catch my breath. It was all such a mess, and like everything else since I had woken up, it would just take time to sort it out. At least I didn't want to sock him in the face again. It was an improvement, right?

I pushed all thoughts of Alex away and wound my way upstairs, casting a fleeting thought instead to the rest of my teammates. Logan, Jean, Ororo, Remy…all of us had earned a quiet afternoon to recharge our emotional batteries. If I knew Ororo, she was either tending the flowers in her attic room or rolling through the clouds, communing with nature. Logan and Jean had left to spend a little quality time away from the mansion, but not before I borrowed a quick dose of healing factor to cover the lumps I had taken yesterday. As for Remy…

I reached my room with its new door, and stopped. The entrance was slightly ajar. I knew I had locked the darn thing before I had gone downstairs for the day…I trusted my teammates with my life, but my privacy was another thing entirely. I pushed open the door and peeped inside. Nothing was out of place, save for a large white box perched on top of my bed. I stepped towards it cautiously. A single white magnolia, a favorite of this Mississippi gal, lay on its top, along with a note. I lifted the blossom and inhaled the heady fragrance, transported to my childhood home on a sweet cloud. The note attached was from everybody's favorite Swamp Rat.

" _A_ -," it read,

 _Please join me for dinner this evening at 7:00 on the dock overlooking Spuyten Dyvil Cove._

 _Wear this._

 _–R"_

I opened the box, gasping at the sight of the beautiful dress nestled in the folds of tissue paper. I lifted it free and held it up to my body in front of the mirror. It was gorgeous, form-fitting, falling just below my knees, made of a dark green lace with a sheer liner beneath. It had cap-sleeves and a demure neckline, but the back plunged straight down in a scandalous v that almost reached my tailbone. Wearing a bra was gonna be impossible, that louse. There were even high heels to match, and a lacy scrap that was apparently supposed to be panties. I didn't want to think about how he knew my size, but it all fit like a dream. The clock read six-fifteen. Plenty of time. I pulled half of my curls up, leaving the rest to trail down my bare back, and dashed on minimal makeup.

Before I left my room, I caught one last glimpse of myself in the mirror, and the girl who stared back at me looked…happy. Healed and whole, ready for whatever life would throw at her next. When I had woken in the infirmary all those months ago, I thought I would never recover from what had been taken from me, but here, now, my heart was fit to burst at how many wonderful things had taken the place of what I had lost.

I practically ran to the rickety old boathouse that sat beside the lake bordering Xavier's estate. The soft glow of two rows of candles in glass mason jars lined the edge of the dock and Remy leaned easily against one of the pylons in a dark suit that hugged his lithe form in all the right places. At his feet, a picnic basket sat on the plaid blanket spread at the end of the dock, alongside a bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket.

"Bon nuit, chere." He met me halfway and brought my hands to his lips, his eyes drinking in the sight of me. "You're beautiful, Anna."

I gave him my best knockout smile, under my lashes with just a little pout. "Not so bad yourself, sugar." He smiled that devil smile and leaned in, but I bent my head back, teasing. "What is all this, Remy?"

His laugh was husky, warm enough I wondered if he'd already popped the cork on that champagne. "Just a little something I whipped up. Figured you'd appreciate me making you all my specialties."

"Can we start with dessert?"

Those eyes of his sparkled. "Depends. Did you bring your famous boysenberry pie?"

"No, sugar, but I brought something just as sweet…"

His lips found mine in the soft light of the candles. I still didn't know what this was between us, where we were goin', what the future held, but in his arms, I truly felt like anything was possible.

 **The End**


End file.
